Dad and Meyer Lansky: ‘Birds of a feather really do flock together.’
My father, Howie, was a Bronx-born ‘Good Fella,’ who spent a lot of time in my youth with his ‘business associates’ including Meyer Lansky, his mentor. I learned from spending time with Dad and his ‘associates’ at a very early age, that ‘Birds of a feather really do flock together.’
Born in 1924, of German ancestry, my father, Howie, saw a lot growing up and seemed to revel in his early Bronx roots— where he spent a lot of time on the streets and docks of New York
City. Well-educated, a mechanical engineer by trade, he served in the Navy, and went to Stevens Institute of Engineering, Hoboken, New Jersey.
Though we kids were all too young to really understand the full gravity and origin of his frequent Bronx-based ‘bedtime stories,’ on occasion, Dad would discretely tell us three kids his covert versions of some of the action-packed antics of some of the unusual, tough, underworld
characters and legends he knew from his youth and beyond. And all this after my Mom would sing us Ave Maria at bedtime then leave the room.
As a young child, I used to marvel at the characters in Dad’s occasional bedtime stories. In fact, I preferred his bedtime stories to him reading books as he and my mother often did in the early years growing up. Of course he was always careful not to divulge his connections to the characters in his stories. Little did I know until some four decades later, that some of his bedtime stories were at least in part, based in truth. I’m sure some of the characters were from his youth
in the Bronx and then New Jersey where he went to college in Hoboken and where he later held 'business meetings' with his Jersey cousin, John.
It is noteworthy that my childhood memories of Howie’s world were blocked for decades. It was as if I had just enough puzzle pieces to get a rough outline of his underworld life, just the gist, but not a full picture. However, by the grace of God, over a span of many years into adulthood, I slowly received one puzzle piece at a time through memories, flashbacks and
nightmares. Through many ‘aha' moments, I eventually was able to understand the ‘finer nuances’ of his sordid double life. Looking back, I suspect God knew it was too much for me to embrace all at once in my youth so the Lord shielded me until I was much older, was in therapy, and more prepared for the gravity of what I learned about his life.
Dad had many friends and associates in our neighborhoods where we lived while I was growing up in Upstate New York—and even in Takoma Park, Maryland where we later moved with Mom after they divorced. Several of Howie’s neighbor friends in Upstate New York
reportedly were in jail for many years, while their wives worked hard to keep things going at home for and with their young children. Some were our neighbors and friends. In fact, we had three neighbors whose fathers were all Dad’s friends, and all reportedly in jail at the same time, for what I do not know.
After leaving engineering in the late 60’ where he worked as a mechanical engineer with aerospace and electronics, Dad generally did not discuss his ‘new’ occupation with us kids even when we were older. As the years passed by, his lack of communication ultimately allowed each
of us to draw our own conclusions as to what he really did.Sometimes he said he worked selling corrugated boxes with a company in New Hampshire.
Though my siblings seemed to take him at his word, I always found it hard to believe that he went from being a bright mechanical engineer to selling corrugated boxes. For more than a few
years I thought he was in the CIA, However, as the years pressed on, he left a long crumb trail of clues as to his ‘double life’ as a ‘Good Fella.’
It is noteworthy that of the three of us, I am the only one who has pursued, recognized and accepted that Howie led a double life. Though my siblings were also there with me on many occasions early on, they too seem to have memory blocks on details similar to those I used to have, including places and names of people we met, and they seemed to have no overt desire to
remember these things. As the years pressed on, they were not there for many of his adventures as they were working and away at college, but he still came and picked me up and took me with him to meetings.
Howie would conjure up fun activities and plans to keep of us busy while he held his Mob meetings with his associates. We hiked, swam, climbed rocks at the King and Queens’ seat in Maryland, hiked at state parks, went ‘diamond hunting’ for quartz while climbing on tall cliffs in Herkimer, NY, swimming at lakes in the Adirondacks, and spelunking deep in dark caves without any equipment whatsoever. I was not outdoorsy at all, and had little interest in
leaving his side, but my brother and sister loved his fun adventures, and these activities served as
a distraction for them from his meetings as they went off to do the activity of the day with me
choosing to stay behind at Dad’s side.
After my sister, who is three years older than me, went away to college in 1971 when I was about 14 years old, my brother got a part time weekend job as a janitor’s helper at the local Catholic church. On weekends, Dad would drive from Middle River, Maryland where he lived to
Takoma Park, Maryland, pick me up and drive an hour and a half to his ‘recruitment headquarters.’ By 1985, I also had the added ‘benefit’ of knowing many people who knew
Howie after my husband and I unwittingly moved close to the area where Howie met with most
of his contacts in the 70’s.
To this day, I still pray fervently and often for Howie and those who fell prey to his charming demeanor, as he carefully, informally, profiled everyone he met to meet his subversive criteria for possible inclusion in his activities’ and ‘organization,’ either as a compadre, a partner, or an unwitting victim. Over the years I have realized that he especially looked for trusting, vulnerable people with large families, especially those with drinking fathers and distracted, devout, Catholic, church going mothers, some with ADHD, some with rebellious, drug or alcohol addicted children who were vulnerable. In many cases, in most of the communities we went to, he had a series of girlfriends that he ‘lived’ with—just part of his M.O.
As a young girl, from middle school on, I often asked Dad about his job, and he would flatly respond to my inquiries by saying, “What do you think I do?” and then, change the subject or continue reading the stock pages in the local newspaper. Dad was a complex man—a rather charming, eccentric character who had many diverse interests and ‘activities,’who was always also very much of a calculating, unconventional man, and a utilitarian opportunist, seemingly
anti-Christian, and certainly anti-Catholic. Though to me Howie seemed to be devoid of a conscience, he was a fearless, curious, unusual, adventurous and interesting mystery man to me and most who knew him, one that people seemed to follow blindly.
That certainly was a striking revelation, especially since it took years to come to the conclusion. My father was proud of what he did (a truck driver and Teamster) and talked about it all the time. I never asked him about Jimmy Hoffa and he never ventured any opinion, although I had an idea that the union kept him captive for much of his life.
I was also surprised that your siblings, some of them older, didn't come to the conclusion you did, in a similar way. But I guess knowing my sister and my younger brothers, we all have different perspectives on our parents.
Finally, I'm disappointed because you did not, like the movie, Goodfellas, give any narrative of wrongdoing from your perspective, whatsoever. This may be your way of protecting him, or of protecting yourself. So I don't find you spending a whole book on this single realization who your father was, rather than specific instances and acts that led to that conclusion. I find that much better reading… What you found out really was going on.
Such a childhood you had, it is always shocking to find things aren't as innocent as they appear in our youth. When things are pieced together it turns out to be a completely different picture from that which we remember. Sometimes looking back is too frightening to contemplate and we don't really want to remember, we don't want those pieces to fall into place and shatter the innocence of our youthful memories.
The Harvest of Souls Crossover is a story that is exciting, vigorous, and full of suspense about the fight of good and evil in two realms, the light and dark world. The Howdy Family is determined to defeat the world of darkness, led by the seemingly
My father, Howie, was a Bronx-born ‘Good Fella,’ who spent a lot of time in my youth with his ‘business associates’ including Meyer Lansky, his mentor. I learned from spending time with Dad and his ‘associates’ at a very early age, that ‘Birds of a feather really do flock together.’
