Death of a Businessman

Lawrence ("Dago") Mangano did business in Chicago for more than 20 years. Like many another poor youth he began modestly, as a pimp, burglar and small-time gambler. But Dago Mangano had brains and a pleasant, breezy personality. He soon became known as a man of executive ability. When Al Capone ran Chicago's Syndicate, Mangano was a trusted lieutenant. After Capone there was much unrest. The late Frank (The Enforcer) Nitti, Jack Guzik (TIME, May 1) and the incumbent Tony Accardo, successively became Syndicate chieftains.

But Dago Mangano never discounted the element of risk involved in business ventures; he always made it plain that he had no consuming ambition for power. Mike de Pike Heitler, Benjamin (Zookie the Bookie) Zuckerman and many others of his associates died noisily as the years passed, but Dago Mangano -- "always prominent but never a big shot"--prospered in peace.

The Dago got along well with the law. He was arrested 200 times, but never served time. His explanation: "They were all bum raps, and besides I had good lawyers." He was human, of course--once he fired five shots at a cop who was ungallantly arresting a woman on a dark street--but in general he was a quiet citizen. He was a good husband and father (he lived with his wife and two adopted children) and he was generous with his girl friends and relatives.

His business went well. He received stolen goods, dealt in prostitution from time to time, and once took a brief flyer in kidnapping. He invested in real estate, operated a chromium-trimmed bar-&-grill called the Bomb Shelter. But basically he was a gambling executive.

Off to Cicero. One night last week Dago Mangano drove to Cicero, 111. for relaxation with Big Mike Pontelli (his bodyguard), and a girl named Rita Reyes, with whom Big Mike was enjoying a two-day binge. The trio drank innocently for several hours at the Paddock Lounge, a dim-lit bar which is tops in Syndicate society.

At three in the morning they walked out and climbed into Mangano's shiny, maroon 1941 Mercury. They headed back to Chicago, with Dago at the wheel. Mangano kept craning back over his shoulder. As the machine moved along Blue Island Avenue on the dingy West Side he said: "I think there's a squad car after us. We better see what they want." He braked his car to a stop, said, "Give me a fin to talk to them with," accepted a five-dollar bill from Big Mike, and climbed out.

A black sedan rolled toward him and slowed. The street echoed with the slamming roar of gunfire, the black sedan raced away, screeched around a corner and was gone. Big Mike leaped out, began dragging Dago Mangano's moaning, bleeding bulk toward the curb. From around another corner the black sedan careened again. Big Mike pushed his girl to safety. The guns roared, and Big Mike fell beside Mangano, mortally wounded.

Deathbed Denial. At Bridewell jail hospital surgeons found that Dago Mangano had been perforated by two hundred shotgun pellets and six .45 slugs. As he screamed, they guessed the bullets had been rubbed in garlic, to increase his pain. He died denying that he knew who had killed him. Next day Chicago newspapers reported, with corny drama, that he had obeyed the gangsters code and had refused to squeal. But the day after that, as Dago Mangano lay dressed in an ill-fitting tuxedo at Salerno's Sons' gaudy funeral parlor, it seemed probable that he had simply been telling the truth--he might have been killed by a dozen different people for a dozen different reasons.

Some of the possible reasons: Chicago police heard that he had double-crossed associates in a cigarette hijacking deal. It was whispered that he had held out gambling profits from the Syndicate, that he had talked to F.B.I, agents investigating the motion picture extortion racket, that he had dealt in narcotics (the Syndicate considers dope too hot).

It looked as though Dago Mangano had been leading a double life.

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