FLASH: The Most Sinister Plot in History

This week presents a tale of unprecedented mystery and evil that brought world attention to Chicago and changed the city forever. It is only fair to readers to unfold the story exactly the way it happened, hoping that the good citizens of Chicago will forgive this less-than-adequate and unfortunately distracted reporting.

Seduction of a Journalist

It started out as a typical Sunday morning. The Chicagoan Editor-inChief Miss Eleanor Medier looked forward to catching up on work in her Loop office, anticipating some concentrated writing time. First she let her hair down (she really doesn’t like the new bobbed hairstyles) and put on her sweater to defend against the brisk wind coming from the river. Happy to walk through the unusally quiet streets, she arrived at her office without encountering anyone. And by this time, she was used to receiving notes on her desk from the loyal and dedicated citizens who keep her informed about real or imaginary happenings about town. Sitting on her counter was a neatly folded note that revealed a simple request:

“Dear Miss Medier, We have been remodeling the Boom Boom and have some new chairs and tables that would love to be photographed. If you could spare a few minutes this morning, it would be great to see you.
Sincerely, Miss Kitten Leakey, manager”

Because Miss Leakey is a good friend to Miss Medier, she didn’t hesitate to grab her camera and skip a block over to this most popular establishment. Always pleased to see improvements, especially in interior design, Miss Medier was already composing mental images.

As she mounted the stairs and turned to enter the lounge, she was not surprised to see some new chairs, but she was very surprised to find a tall dark handsome stranger sitting on one of them, his long legs stretched before him, a cigarette casually dangling from his fingertips. Readers must understand that it had been some time since Miss Medier met any guys that weren’t what she considered “wimps,” as Chicago is full of transient and superficial newcomers. And she also didn’t think much of the regular residents who care more about the latest firearms than they do the latest fashions. This fellow, though dressed more in worker’s clothes than in the many tasteful suits being sold on Michigan Avenue, he made up for his informality by a quiet and charismatic confidence. Naturally Miss Medier’s lonely (she didn’t realize until that moment how lonely) heart did a few flip-flops. Also uncharateristic of her, wishful thinking overtook her normally skeptical judgement.

The tall dark handsome stranger didn’t seem surprised to see her, however, and that should have been her first clue that something underhanded was afoot. But though Miss Medier is much harder to distract than most women, her best appraisal decided to take a vacation at that moment. Her second clue should have been his unusual accent, but he was so complimentary and interested in every question that she asked (journalists are compelled to ask questions) he seemed to be the kind of person she hoped would move to this fair city!

Soft jazz (Miss Medier’s favorite) was playing on the radio, and after exchanging pleasantries, the stranger asked her to dance. Though the club was empty at that hour, romance gripped her heart, and she decided “why not have fun?” she unwisely said to herself. Twirling around the empty lounge in his arms, she forgot to wonder even where her friend Miss Leakey may be. And she certainly forgot about the new chairs and tables! So unlike this most popular journalist, she even overlooked the fact that the stranger never even told her his name (even intelligent women can be very foolish when it comes to romance)!


Miss Medier is swept off her normally practical feet into fantasies of romantic adventure

After a wonderful interlude of a few hours, Miss Medier mentioned to her new friend that the Saint Valentine’s Day Ball was scheduled for that very evening. Might he attend the event with her? she asked hopefully, looking forward to a sensational entrance on the arm of such a handsome and possibly presentable man—assuming he had a decent suit in his wardrobe. Saying all the right things to warm her otherwise skeptical heart, he agreed enthusiastically, assuring her that he owned better clothes. (The most successful criminals understand psychological manipulation!) Little did she know, feeling to be part of a couple at last, as their movements together seemed like meant-to-be choreography, she was missing out on the crime of the century taking place just a few blocks away! And even when she heard the sound of gunfire and shouts, she was so caught up in the moment that she ignored all indications that a world-shaking event was happening!

The Massacre that Shocked the World

Everyone knows that Chicago is the home of gangsters and prohibition-escaping enterprises. In fact, many believe that the strict prohibition laws do the opposite of what is intended: instead of encouraging virtuous behavior, they inspire even more mischief than occurred in the prior more liberal decades. Perhaps it is reverse psychology in action, but many are profitting from bootlegging, speakeasy parties, and less than honorable business negotiations. Yet no one would have ever predicted the kind of violence in the streets that leave law enforcers scrambling in many directions at once!

But the events of Valentines Day have topped all of the other sensational repercussions of the well-intentioned. On that fateful afternoon, while the most astute businessman in town, Shepham Moorlord, was preoccupied with his own romantic relaxation in his penthouse with gorgeous wife Misses Starla Huntress Moorlord, the most sinister of all crimes was progressing in the streets below! He claims that he had nothing to do with the diabolical plot.

In a discreeting unamed garage on the east side of the Loop, there was a meeting of seven leading mobsters, possibly lubricated with or motivated by alcohol, it was certainly clandestine. These also discreetly unnamed and loosely-called gentlemen were probably trying to avoid confrontation as they plotted their profitable enterprises. So they must have been surprised when there was a knock on the door which then revealed two uniformed policemen, accompanied by two trench-coat clad strangers, who entered under the guise of checking out the neighborhood for illegal activities.

Although these “gentlemen” were hardly the trusting sort (or even model citizens), they must have been shocked when these alleged policemen pulled out their tommy guns and forced them to line up along the back brick wall. No one will ever know what discussion ensued, but it could not have been pleasant. Still thinking this was a typical raid, maybe trying to fast-talk their way out of a jam, the still-unamed mobsters appeared to have cooperated with instructions. They even allowed themselves to become unarmed and certainly could not have been prepared for what infamy they would bring down upon themselves.

The alleged policemen, most inconsiderate and impolite, not only threatened this peaceful conference, they refused to give their identities, it appears. All those walking on the street nearby were halted in their tracks by flashes and the sound of rapid machine gun blasts. The imposter policemen proved themselves disreputable and evil when they opened fire upon the inhabitants of the garage! With these new weapons, enough bullets flew to not only kill each of them several times over, but splintered the bricks behind ((which later sold for a fortune when the garage was torn down in good taste)).

garage massacre

Officer Chandler Olinger is always the first on the scene of any dramatic and disreputable activity.

Fearing for their own lives, the good citizens on the street managed to reach the telephones as they disappeared behind their own closed doors. Officers Chandler Olinger and Leather Garnett were the first to arrive on the scene. One of the victims was barely still alive when Officer Olinger pumped him with questions, asking most-importantly “Who did this?” Before he died, the victim whispered “Nobody did this,” even though he suffered 14 bullet wounds. Officer Olinger, of course, doubted the truth of such an answer, as it is impossible for “no one” to cause such havoc.


Mobsters meeting peacefully are not-so-peacefully gunned down in a garage on the east side of town in the warehouse district of downtown Chicago.

Soon the ambulence arrived, but there was no one eligible for its rescue services. Only a clean-up crew was necessary because the garage was left quite a mess by the perpetrators who didn’t even bother to take the bodies with them for disposal. Also, the identities of the victims must be withheld from the press until further investigation.

Officer Olinger is completely puzzled as to who could have come up with such a spectacle of violence. Admiring their ingenuity, clandestine plot, and clever escape, Officer Olinger is not very hopeful of apprehending the guilty. Afterall, criminals who kill other criminals actually help law enforcers—much like the concept of an enemy of an enemy is really a friend!

To appease the citizens of Chicago who are rather fed up with, albeit used to, gun fire in the streets, the officers will at least try to save the city’s reputation. And those in favor of prohibition might also reconsider their position on the matter, as there is no question that bootlegging and alcoholic profits had something to do with the motive.

In the meantime, Chicago has now achieved international noteriety, which might indeed assist the tourism business of the future but does little to assure the safety of citizens in the short-term present.

The Show Must Go On (photographs by Miss Xyza Armistice)

In typical Chicago style, whenever there is a significant event, positive or negative, the best and the brightest loose themselves in the dance! Miss Medier, mortified and embarrased that she missed witnessing (and reporting on) the horrific events of the morning at least felt the consolation that her new date would admire her gown. Miss Xyza Armistice, style leader of all the Chicago ladies, worked hard with the normally-fashion-negligent Miss Medier (who admires the latest styles on paper more than on her person) on finding the right look for this major event. Taking place in the glamorous Hotel LaSalle, everyone who was anyone in the city would be there.

With stars in her eyes, Miss Medier arrived at the agreed-upon time, yet there was no tall dark handsome stranger to greet her! In fact, he was no where to be seen! Still optimistic (as her nature is always optimistic), Miss Medier made her entrance into the party alone, thinking her friend may already be inside. But he wasn’t. And as the evening wore on, it became apparent that Miss Medier would be dateless as usual.

valentine dancers

Masked dancers enjoy the great singing of Miss Dinah Halostar.

Naturally everyone at the party was abuzz with what happened that morning, so Miss Medier’s ears were filling with facts of the most alarming crime in the city’s history Putting two-and-two together (Miss Medier is good at math), she reasoned that her romantic interlude was happening at exactly the same time—she had been duped!!

valentine lovers

The lovers enjoy the dance more than those observing.

While her disappointed tears smeared her face-jewel and spilled down to spot her new satin dress, she was doubly upset! Trying to stand on the sidelines unnoticed, her great friend Chicf Olinger perceived her distress. The Chief, much more experienced in the ways of men, put her arm around Miss Medier, mistaking her tears for feelings of rejection. But any reader who understands the heart of a journalist would know that Miss Medier had all but forgotten the stranger at that point and was more focused on the sensational photographs that she didn’t shoot! She vowed to herself that she will never be so distracted again from her duty!!! The whole town knows (and is grateful for) Miss Medier’s courage, tenacity, and inventiveness. And to her great embarrassment, they now know of her foolishness.

lovely ladies

Lovely ladies exemplify the best fashions of the day; note forlorn Miss Medier looking better than ever in her light blue gown.

Chief Olinger did accurately sum up an astute conclusion when she declared (the Chief is more loyal to her friends than she is to the law): “Let’s give all the guys guns and watch them shoot each other!” Miss Medier couldn’t help but smile through her tears. The last victim of the soon-to-be-famous Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre was Miss Medier’s innocence.

Historical Notes:

The conflict between rival gangs is legendary. Suspected that the perpetrators worked for Al Capone has never been proven. It was probably retribution for a previous attack on Mr. Capone’s headquarters and an invasion of his profitable territory (gangsters tend to be very territorial). Check out a more complete description of the crime at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Valentine’s_Day_massacre and http://www.chicagohs.org/history/capone/cpn2.html


Shepham Moorlord did a fantastic job of recreating the real scene (left) with the fictional one (right).

It is also only fair to pay tribute to the one loyal and honorable heart that was the most tragic victim at the scene: the german shepherd, who did his duty until the bitter end—he howled for help until law enforcement arrived. Although he did survive the massacre, he was “destroyed” by the police who claimed he was “raving mad.” What readers will not find in the popular press, something only residents of Chicago can know (as the author of this post has found first-hand), the lot on North Clark Street where the doomed garage stood (now a parking lot), is haunted by the only pure spirit lost that day. Residents walking their dogs will observe their pets acting strangely when nearing the fence that borders the lot: they cower, howl, and whimper in the most mournful ways. This terrible crime will never be forgotten and will forever be a stain on the hearts of all animal lovers.


2 Responses

  1. ★(`’·.¸:•.•:*¨*☆•☆*¨¨*:•.•:¸.·’´)★
    ♬♬♬,.-:* APPLAUSE *:-.,♬♬♬

    My bloody Valentine
    Only moments against the wall
    Piercing my heart pressing deeply into me.

    My bloody Valentine
    Our secret interlude.
    Fallen on to deaths ears.

    A lost generation.
    Heavy breathin..
    A fallen release
    Secrets untold.
    Men so stupidly bold.

    Shades of red n gray
    Fall like fire works
    And violent play

    Falling back into the wall
    Again and again.
    Rapturous delight.
    Threw out the day.

    Limp bodies
    Lazily limp upon each other
    Rapturous whispers fading
    And a deadly kiss goodnight.

  2. What a scoundrel and a bounding cad! I cannot believe the underhandedness demonstrated to such a worthy woman as yourself! I am relieved however that you were not caught in any crossfire, and were in fact able to present yourself so admirably (with Miss Xy’s kind assistance) for the evenings festivities. It was entirely his loss.

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