Senator’s assassination still a mystery
Being in the Unsolved Mysteries business, visitors to Louisiana always ask me who killed Huey Long. I remind them of two quotes: “Follow the money” and “History is written by victors.”
Although Senator Long’s assassin shot him eighty-eight years ago this month, I usually start the story in Hammond, Louisiana, two months earlier.
Just before dusk on a Wednesday evening, July 11, 1935, Hammond Police Chief George F. Smith called a press conference to discuss rumors that Louisiana Governor Oscar K. Allen—known statewide as Senator Huey P. Long’s puppet governor—had fired him.
“There has been some misunderstanding—by myself and others—as to whether or not I am still employed here,” he said. “And I assure everyone that I most certainly am.”
“Chief Smith?” Hodding Carter, Jr. of the Hammond Daily Courier raised his pencil. “Can you tell us why the governor summoned you to the state capitol this morning and whether it’s true that Senator Long is pushing you out?”
Carter—like the editors of most Louisiana dailies in 1935—opposed Huey Pierce Long because of his Share-the-Wealth program. Huey Long, a former Louisiana governor, wanted wealthy newspaper advertisers to give more back to their communities.
“Junior,” Chief Smith answered. “My service to Hammond is subject solely to the pleasure of the city council until they decide to appoint my successor.”
“Actually, Chief,” interrupted Huey Long supporter George B. Furbos, editor of the Hammond Vindicator, a weekly newspaper serving primarily poor farmers, “I heard the governor called you to Baton Rouge about what happened in Ponchatoula last week. Is that true?”
“George,” the chief answered. “The 25 slot machines destroyed by state police last week in Ponchatoula have no relevance here. However, let me say this: From now on, I intend to enforce all city ordinances and laws, hoping the affluent citizens of Hammond will cooperate. I am going to stand against and will absolutely drive out all slot machines and gambling from our city. Let this be a warning to all violators. I will enforce the law against friend or foe, and I will not discriminate.”
Two weeks later, a civil service commission approved the removal of Chief Smith for “incompetency, inefficiency, and negligence.” Commission Chairman Lorris M. Wimberly told reporters the inquiry began after residents of Hammond filed civil service complaints with the state. However, he refused to disclose the details of those complaints. “If you require more information,” he said. “You must consult the Hammond City Council.”
Nine months earlier, on August 7, 1934, the American Progress—a Huey Long-owned newspaper produced in the offices of the Hammond Vindicator—reported:
“Political officials in New Orleans collect $13,000,000 annually in graft from the red light district and gambling houses in Orleans, St. Bernard, and Jefferson Parishes. The total from surrounding parishes is unknown but likely comparable.”
The newspaper itemized the list of vices generating money as racing handbooks, prostitution, slot machines, lotteries, blackjack, keno, roulette, and “lesser gambling games, such as punch-boards, marbles, and dice.”
In today’s dollars, that 13 million equates to nearly 250 million annually.
Two weeks after The Progress article, Governor Allen sent the order to the police chiefs of every city and the sheriffs of every parish demanding the closing of all casinos, private gambling houses, and brothels in the state—and he ordered the destruction of all slot machines in Louisiana.
Shortly after Christmas that year, Governor Allen realized law enforcement had ignored his order, so he delivered a fresh ultimatum. Law enforcement agencies statewide had until New Year’s Eve to comply with his original order and destroy all slot machines, or the state police would begin doing it for them.
Initially, this plan seemed to work. By June 1935, Hammond and Ponchatoula were among the few towns left with working slot machines. If any remained by the end of July, their owners hid them outside public view.
But that had all changed by mid-August 1935.
In under two weeks, shiny new “Chief” brand slot machines appeared in the lobbies of almost every business in Baton Rouge and New Orleans, as well as most restaurants and grocery stores along the Mississippi River on the route between the two cities.
According to the New Orleans States, the appearance of these new “Chiefs” was just the beginning. On August 17, the newspaper reported:
“Several poker games reopened this week, and resorts are beginning to install dice, blackjack, and other gambling games. This started when some favored gamblers started operating boldly without police molestation. They explained they had ‘an understanding’ with a New York syndicate that provided both the slots and the protection for the other games.”
New Orleans Superintendent of Police George Reyer told the States that he knew nothing of any slot machine violations in the city but added, “If there are any violations of the law, I’ll see to it that those slot machines are immediately seized and destroyed.”
The article went on to say:
“Side doors which had been closed to prevent surprise raids by police in recent days have swung wide open. With the peephole no longer needed, the syndicate offers customers free and uninterrupted access to their favorite illegal games.”
The last week in August 1935, Huey Long telegraphed Governor Allen from Washington, telling him he would be back in Baton Rouge for a special legislative session the first week in September. The telegram also asked the governor to thank General Louis F. Guerre of the state police for finally dismantling gambling in the state.
Within 24 hours, according to three daily newspapers, every slot machine in Baton Rouge and New Orleans vanished.
An armed assassin shot Senator Huey P. Long in the Louisiana State Capitol on September 8, 1935—12 minutes after he introduced a bill regulating the installation of “any and all mechanical devices at the state level.”
Two days later, Huey Long died in a Baton Rouge hospital.
On September 19, 1935, the Times-Picayune reported that all Chief slot machines had returned to Baton Rouge and New Orleans as mysteriously as they had vanished two weeks earlier.
Decades later, before a government committee, mobster Frank Costello claimed Huey Long invited him to ship his slot machines to Louisiana from New York, an offer he could not refuse.