The Pabst sign spans Juneau Avenue at 10th Street, connecting the malt house on the southwest corner with the brewhouse on the northwest corner. German immigrant Jacob Best and his sons established the Empire Brewery, which was to become Pabst Brewery, in Milwaukee in 1844. In 1876, it won a gold medal at the Centennial Celebration and in 1882, they began hand-tying a blue silk ribbon around the neck of each beer to identify it as a first-place winner. By 1892, they were hand-tying close to one million feet of blue silk ribbon around the necks of bottles per year. Across the street from the brewery, a building defiantly displays a lighted brown and white, Schlitz The Beer That Made Milwaukee Famous sign, over its front door. In each of the two front windows, two more Schlitz signs, both in red neon, blink in the eye of its main competitor across the street. The building has a gray and tan multicolored tar paper siding and is the home of Giovanni’s Italian Restaurant, owned by Romeo Butticci who has an ongoing feud with Pabst, the family that purchased the brewery years ago from the Best family.
The building looked dark and foreboding. Piles of dirty snow are piled along the side of the sidewalk leading to the restaurant. I had been here before but was unaware of the Butticci and syndicate connection. I remember the food being somewhat tasteful and the atmosphere being mysteriously dark. Now that I know that at least three bodies may be connected to the restaurant’s murky owner the mystery only deepens.
I walked up the three stone steps lined with a wrought iron railing that led to the double red door entrance. The door on the left had a hand-lettered paper sign taped next to the door handle. It read “Please Use Other Door” with an arrow conveniently pointing to the other door. So I did.
There was a hostess stand off to the left and behind it stood a big goon in a tux. I knew he was a big goon because he looked like one.
He looked at me and smiled showing a big gap where his left incisor and molar were supposed to be and said, “May I help youse?”
I was taken back for a moment. I didn’t know if he was supposed to be the maitre'd or if he was pulling my leg. When I finally told him I was Max Fly and I was there to see Romeo, he told me to wait where I was and he left.
I stood there for a couple of minutes before he returned with another goon who could have passed for his brother, or, at least, a second cousin. They were both the size of a telephone pole. I was frisked by the second goon.
I thought he spent a little too much time fondling my little ferret; but what do I know, I had never been fondled by a big goon before.
When he was through, he looked at the other telephone pole and said, “He’s clean, boss.”
I was pleased I passed his personal hygiene inspection. He smiled at me.
I smiled, but I didn’t let it reach my eyes. I was afraid he was attempting to strike up a special friendship.
As we walked into the restaurant we passed tables covered with white cotton tablecloths. A small glass vase was placed on every table with a daisy, delicately situated in each one. Candles were lit and planted into empty Chianti bottles. Luckily the candles were already lit for the evening arrivals. If they weren’t, my friendly escorts and I might have been bumping into things as we strolled to the back of the restaurant.
“Park the body, Mr. Fly,” a deep baritone voice called out, floating from what looked like a pocket-sized apparition dressed in black, sitting at a corner table in the back of the