My Connection to The Mob
By Michael Raff, High Desert Branch
It’s been nearly a year since Joyce, my brother Eddie and I toured the Mob Museum in Las Vagas. We thought it would be a good idea to go on Valentine’s Day, as the museum offered a discount for the 94th anniversary of the massacre. It was pouring rain and practically everyone in Vegas had the same idea. But I didn’t let the downpour or the crowd dampen my enthusiasm.
My brother and I grew up in Chicago and we knew a lot about mobsters, especially the local ones. All three of us were impressed with the museum, with countless exhibits ranging from photos of Al Capone, (the dirty rat), FBI agents, and the wall that seven men had been mowed down against. The garage in which the massacre occurred had long since been demolished, but an investor had meticulously reassembled it brick by brick, which the museum later purchased.
After the tour, I thought about my connection to the mob. It’s just a slight one, mind you, but a connection nevertheless.
My paternal grandfather and namesake, Michael Raff, died before my cousins, brother, and I were born. None of our elders wanted to talk about him. What we did know was he had at least one connection to the mob. We also knew that one of Capone’s henchmen was “Mike the Pike”―also a dirty rat who ran the brothels for Capone. (It’s a nasty business, but someone had to do it.) Because our family didn’t want to talk about Grandpa Mike, my cousins, Eddie, and I were suspicious.
It took many years and a lot of questioning, but we finally dug up the truth. Our grandparents lived in the same apartment building as “Mike the Pike.” He and Grandpa were friendly and often played cards together. (It’s a good thing Grandpa didn’t get whacked for cheating because then I wouldn’t have been able to join the writers club).
The reason why no one wanted to talk about Grandpa was that Grandma caught him in bed with another woman, (another dirty rat, there’s a lot of them in this sordid, little tale), and that’s the reason why they were divorced.
This information was helpful, but we still didn’t know the identity of “Mike the Pike.” What ever happened to him?
Did the police nail him? Did he fall overboard wearing cement shoes? Or did he get drafted? Back then, we didn’t have the internet to help. Eddie, a fan of the underworld, found a book about gangsters. “Mike the Pike” was a nickname for Mike Heitler. Disenchanted with not being promoted, he wrote a letter to the DA’s office, turning his boss in. Well-connected, Capone intercepted the letter, and Heitler’s body was discovered in a
While visiting Chicago, Eddie and I have found the site of the massacre and the grave of Al Capone. But what about my grandfather? Where was he buried? By 2010, no one was left alive to ask. Before leaving for Chicago, I contacted Cook County’s Record Department and requested my grandfather’s death certificate, which had the name of the cemetery.
Joyce and I traveled to Chicago and the cemetery looked familiar. A memory returned to me―my father had taken Eddie and me there when we were very young. Joyce and I took photos. It was rather creepy seeing “Michael O. Raff” engraved on the headstone, especially since I’m Michael P. Raff.
It’s amazing what a difference one letter can make.
“My Connection to the Mob” originally appeared in the February 2024
Inkslinger, newsletter of the High Desert Branch.