Charlie "The Bug" Workman
The story of Charlie "The Bug" Workman, who was rumored to have killed 20 men. One of those 20 men was Dutch Schultz.
by Allan May
When I read the biographies of criminals in Jay Nash’s World Encyclopedia of Organized Crime and Carl Sifakis’s Mafia Encyclopedia, I was amazed at the number of murders attributed to certain mobsters. I sometimes think that if all these murders were really committed there wouldn’t be anyone left on the planet (a slight exaggeration).
One of the more prolific murderers was Charlie Workman, variously known as "The Bug," "The Powerhouse," and "Handsome Charlie." He was rumored to have dispatched 20 individuals.
Workman, like many other criminals of the early 20th century, was from Manhattan’s teeming Lower East Side. Born in 1908, he was the second of seven children. By the time he quit school in the ninth grade at the age of 17, he had earned a reputation as a neighborhood bully and was feared for his "rough tactics." At 18 he was arrested for stealing a $12 bundle of cotton thread from a truck parked on Broadway; at 19 he was arrested for shooting a man in a dispute over $20. Although the victim of the shooting refused to identify Workman as his assailant, Workman was sent to the New York State Reformatory for violating parole in the cotton theft case. Released seven months later, Workman soon found himself on his way back to prison for additional parole violations: associating with "questionable characters" and failing to get a job. After three more months in stir, he was out and back again for the same reason. This stint in prison would be his last serious jail time for the next 12 years.
This didn’t mean that Workman had become a model citizen. He was arrested for carrying a concealed weapon in 1932. The following year he sucker punched an off duty police officer after a traffic altercation. He was even nailed with the popular "vagrancy" charge in 1939 when the police wanted to question him on the whereabouts of Louis "Lepke" Buchalter and Jake Shapiro.
At some point during this period, Workman became a gun-for-hire on the Brooklyn killing squad that became infamously known as Murder, Inc. According to Paul Sann in his classic tale titled Kill the Dutchman, Workman was paid a stipend of $125 a week, and enjoyed the fringe benefit of being able to "sweep out the pockets" of his victims. Sann states Workman was one of the "cartels" top killers.
In July 1935, New York Gov. Harry Lehman appointed Thomas E. Dewey special prosecutor, with orders to cleanup New York. The effort began, according to Dewey, "with no staff, no office, no police, no budget appropriation, and … no sense whatever." Dewey’s spirited attack took the underworld by surprise; by October mob dons were discussing a plan to kill him.
Harlem number’s kingpin, Dutch Schultz, was one of the first hoodlums to get into Dewey’s cross hairs. When Schultz let it be known that he would kill Dewey himself if the dons didn’t go through with their plan to take him out, Lucky Luciano, afraid the hit would draw too much legal heat, decided to do away with the Dutchman instead.
When the assignment came down to eliminate Schultz, Workman, with his yeoman reputation, was selected over other gang stalwarts such as Abe Reles, Harry "Pittsburgh Phil" Strauss, Allie Tannenbaum, Buggsy Goldstein, or Happy Maione. It was never clear how Workman had earned his "yeoman" reputation. I have only seen one other murder attributed to him, outside of the Schultz crew slaughter, and that occurred almost four years after the Dutchman’s demise.
Workman’s partners on the hit were Murder, Inc. lieutenant Emmanuel "Mendy" Weiss, and a driver identified only by his nickname, "Piggy." On the night of the murders, Oct. 23, 1935, we only know what happened through second-hand knowledge of the killings. Workman and Weiss never revealed the events of that evening, but they had conversations with other members of Murder, Inc. who later ratted out their compatriots to the authorities.
According to Burton Turkus, the assistant prosecutor who wrote the book Murder, Inc., and prosecuted several of its members, Workman "strolled" into the Palace Chophouse in Newark, while Weiss provided cover and "Piggy" sat poised at the wheel. Workman walked the length of the bar and flipped open the door to the men’s room. Inside was a man washing his hands whom Workman thought was a Schultz bodyguard. He shot the man, who immediately dropped to the floor.
Workman then darted into the back dining room and opened up on the Schultz men – Lulu Rosencrantz, Abe Landau and Abbadabba Berman – killing all three. Not seeing Dutch on the floor, Workman realized he must have been the man washing his hands. He then went back to rifle Schultz’s pockets.
Paul Sann had a different version of the shooting. He stated that both Weiss and Workman first blasted away at the three men in the dining room. Then, after not spotting Schultz, Workman went into the men’s room and found Dutch at the urinal. Workman fired twice; one bullet hit Schultz, causing a mortal wound.
There are discrepancies in both author’s accounts of these murders. However, when the gunfire stopped, another gangland saga was created.
After Workman supposedly rifled the Dutchman’s pockets for cash, he ran back to the getaway car. Weiss, "Piggy" and the car were not in sight. This left Workman the task of making it back to the city alone, which he claimed to have accomplished by escaping through back yards and following the railroad tracks home.
Workman was livid and demanded Weiss’s life for abandoning him. In a sit-down with Lepke Buchalter, each man pled his case. Weiss’s argument for leaving was that the shooting was mob business and when it was over it was time to split. Workman’s robbing of the dying Schultz was personal business and he and "Piggy" should not have put themselves in jeopardy by having to wait for Workman to profit from the kill. Buchalter sided with his lieutenant, Weiss.
In 1940, Abe Reles began ratting out the Murder, Inc. gang, One of the first trials to get underway was Workman’s. The trial, held in Newark, started on June 2, 1941 and began with testimony from Reles and Tannenbaum. It came to an abrupt halt eight days later. On June 9, Louis Cohen testified that he had employed Workman from 1935 to 1937 as a manager and car dispatcher at his funeral home. This was Workman’s alibi for the Schultz murder planning sessions he was said to be at. After Cohen left the witness stand, he was "shadowed" by Prosecutor William O’Dwyer’s men and taken to the police department where he admitted to the false testimony.
Cohen was then driven home by a police officer who remained with him the entire night and returned him to the courthouse the following morning. As Cohen was called back to the witness stand, Workman jumped up and shouted, "Mr. Cohen! I don’t want you to…" Workman didn’t finish his sentence as courtroom attendants pounced on him.
"May I take the stand your honor," Workman yelled out. "Please let me take the stand."
"Not now," replied the judge.
Once back on the stand, Cohen revealed that he had lied the previous day.
When court reconvened after lunch, Workman’s attorney announced that his client wanted to change his plea to "no defense." Common Pleas Judge Daniel Brennan accepted the plea, dismissed the jury, and promptly sentenced Workman to life in prison.
As he was being taken away, the guards gave him a moment with his brother Abe. While Abe sobbed in his arms, Workman told him, "Whatever you do, live honestly. If you make 20 cents a day, make it do you. If you can’t make an honest living, make the government support you. Keep away from the gangs and don’t be a wise guy. Take care of Mama and Papa and watch ‘Itchy’ (a younger brother). He needs watching."
Workman was sent to Trenton State Prison. He was back in the news in 1942, when he offered his services to the United States Navy to go on a suicide mission to hit Japan and avenge Pearl Harbor. His patriotic request was denied. A model prisoner, Workman was transferred to Rahway State Prison Farm in 1952. When he was paroled in 1964, after almost 23 years in prison, his brother Abe and his wife Catherine met him at the prison. He found work, of all places, in the garment district that Lepke once ruled.
Workman never discussed his past life, except to say, "If I knew then, what I know now." He kept the details of the Schultz murders to himself, and the 16 other killings that were attributed to him.
Copyright 1999 by Allan May