Umberto Anastasio, the son of an Italian railway worker, immigrated to New York in 1919, securing a job as a (corrupt) longshoreman. Within two years of his arrival, Albert was convicted of murdering a fellow longshoreman, and was sentenced to death. While waiting to take a seat in Ol' Sparky (as the electric chair at Sing Sing Prison was affectionately known), Anastasia caught the eye of prison barber Jimmy "The Shoe" DeStevano. "The Shoe" saw himself not only as the finest barber in a maximum security prison in Ossning, New York, but also as a sort of mafia talent scout. He was so impressed by Anastasia after witnessing his ruthlessness in a chow line fight, that he alerted the boss of bosses, Lucky Luciano of this diamond in the rough. In 1922, Anastasia was magically granted a retrial that eventually led to his acquittal.
As Anastasia ascended the mob ladder, he left plenty of blood on each rung. He earned the nickname "Lord High Executioner" during his time as the leader of the infamous band of hit men known as Murder, Inc. He was a mad man, a man whose job it was to kill, and Albert Anastasia loved his job. Naturally, Anastasia's delight in homicide caused some concern among New York's Five Families, but not enough for them to take action against their most motivated employee. But after a thirty plus year career in the mob, the Mad Hatter's career ended in a hail of gunfire.
Lucky Luciano decreed that three groups were ineligible for contracts: No civilians. No politicians. No mob bosses. Anybody else involved in the underworld was fair game. "We only kill each other," as Bugsy Segal once quipped. By 1952, Anastasia had ordering the killing of members of two of those groups. In this case, two out of three is bad. After ordering the murder of civilian Arnold Schuster and boss Vincent Magano, Albert was making everybody nervous. The problem was that by then, he was the boss.
So the Lord High Executioner wasn't the world's best boss. Something had to be done, because it was clear that he needed to be relieved of his duties. Through a series of deals and conspiracies that have been documented and surmised by writers far more interested in the details of Cosa Nostra history, the green light was given to whack the boss. At around 10:15 AM on October 25, 1957, with Anastasia peacefully reclining in chair number four, two men with scarves covering their faces like Old West bank robbers walked in to Arthur Grasso's Barber Shop. The men walked past the cash register that Arthur Grasso was working, and straight to chair number four. With guns drawn, the barber Arbisi was pushed out of the way, and the men proceeded to riddle Albert Anastasia with bullets. After being hit by the first bullet, Anastasia sprang from the chair and lunged at who he thought were his attackers (he was actually lunging at their reflections in the mirror). A few bullets later, Albert was on the floor, and the coup d' grace was delivered to the left side of his head. The assassins turned around and ran out the door. That was it for Albert Anastasia.
The picture of the slain mob boss made the front page of the New York Times the next day. The image could be mistaken for a pile of white towels if it weren't for Anastasia's shirtless midsection and his outstretched right hand signaling that a human being lie underneath. That lifeless mass had been one of the most powerful mafioso in American history, but in the end, a penchant for murder reduced him to an innocuous bloody pile of flesh.
What do the stories of Sam Amatuna and Albert Anastasia tell us about the the hazards of the hot towel?
While completely irrational, fears of assassination are not unfounded. Customers have been shot while relaxing under a soothing hot towel. But truthfully, there is no causal link between their demise and the hot towel. The chances of being assassinated while in the barber's chair are infinitely small. That is unless you are a hot tempered mobster embroiled in a feud.
As Anastasia ascended the mob ladder, he left plenty of blood on each rung. He earned the nickname "Lord High Executioner" during his time as the leader of the infamous band of hit men known as Murder, Inc. He was a mad man, a man whose job it was to kill, and Albert Anastasia loved his job. Naturally, Anastasia's delight in homicide caused some concern among New York's Five Families, but not enough for them to take action against their most motivated employee. But after a thirty plus year career in the mob, the Mad Hatter's career ended in a hail of gunfire.
Lucky Luciano decreed that three groups were ineligible for contracts: No civilians. No politicians. No mob bosses. Anybody else involved in the underworld was fair game. "We only kill each other," as Bugsy Segal once quipped. By 1952, Anastasia had ordering the killing of members of two of those groups. In this case, two out of three is bad. After ordering the murder of civilian Arnold Schuster and boss Vincent Magano, Albert was making everybody nervous. The problem was that by then, he was the boss.
So the Lord High Executioner wasn't the world's best boss. Something had to be done, because it was clear that he needed to be relieved of his duties. Through a series of deals and conspiracies that have been documented and surmised by writers far more interested in the details of Cosa Nostra history, the green light was given to whack the boss. At around 10:15 AM on October 25, 1957, with Anastasia peacefully reclining in chair number four, two men with scarves covering their faces like Old West bank robbers walked in to Arthur Grasso's Barber Shop. The men walked past the cash register that Arthur Grasso was working, and straight to chair number four. With guns drawn, the barber Arbisi was pushed out of the way, and the men proceeded to riddle Albert Anastasia with bullets. After being hit by the first bullet, Anastasia sprang from the chair and lunged at who he thought were his attackers (he was actually lunging at their reflections in the mirror). A few bullets later, Albert was on the floor, and the coup d' grace was delivered to the left side of his head. The assassins turned around and ran out the door. That was it for Albert Anastasia.
The picture of the slain mob boss made the front page of the New York Times the next day. The image could be mistaken for a pile of white towels if it weren't for Anastasia's shirtless midsection and his outstretched right hand signaling that a human being lie underneath. That lifeless mass had been one of the most powerful mafioso in American history, but in the end, a penchant for murder reduced him to an innocuous bloody pile of flesh.
What do the stories of Sam Amatuna and Albert Anastasia tell us about the the hazards of the hot towel?
While completely irrational, fears of assassination are not unfounded. Customers have been shot while relaxing under a soothing hot towel. But truthfully, there is no causal link between their demise and the hot towel. The chances of being assassinated while in the barber's chair are infinitely small. That is unless you are a hot tempered mobster embroiled in a feud.
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