26
March 8, 1963
Harry dear,
A fine job even if what they were up to comes down to no more than whale-spout. I must say I feared the references to Modene. I knew they would leave you in no happy state but, on the other hand, you are the only one who has listened to both men speak on other occasions.
I will confess I have been thinking about Modene. Several weeks ago, Hugh handed me a new batch of AURAL—BLUEBEARD transcripts with this comment: “I have the impression these ladies are no longer relevant. However, do take a look.”
With Hugh, one doesn’t know. He can always be setting a trap. I studied, therefore, close to a hundred pages of chatter between Modene and Willie. Since the calls were made by Modene on a pay phone, count on it, a good deal of conversation consists of no more than listing the annoyances of an outdoor booth. Harry, I will send you the transcripts if you insist, but they won’t differ from my summary. I say you would do better to treat yourself to a drink before reading on.
Modene has not been in touch with Jack for many months. As you divined from Roselli’s comments, Modene is unhappy. She is drinking heavily. At Sam’s suggestion, she quit working for Eastern and now lives in Chicago. Her expenses are covered by Giancana, and she doesn’t do much else than wait for him to come back to town. She complains constantly of putting on weight, but in the next breath tells Willie that Sam does not speak any longer of marrying her. She looks for Phyllis McGuire’s name in the gossip columns, she fights with Sam. She says to Willie: “How would you like to be Number Two?” “Are you going to leave him?” asks Willie. Modene’s answer: “I don’t know how.” She is pregnant. She and Sam agree she will have an abortion. There are complications. She needs a secondary operation. She believes Sam put the doctors up to botching the job.
The FBI, in turn, has been harassing Modene. There are days when she will not go down to the corner for a half-pint of cream to put in her coffee since she feels they are in wait for her. Why does she think this? Because her doorbell rang that morning, and she did not answer it. In fact, she does not answer her doorbell for anyone she is not expecting. Even her devoted Willie may be growing tired of Modene. They compare weight-gains. As I suspected, Willie is chubby. Of average height, she is now up to 155. Modene, two inches taller, weighs 145. The conversations suggest that yes, just possibly, Modene is taking up too much of Willie’s time.
On second thought, I will enclose one transcript of a conversation between Modene and Sam. How Buddha’s acolytes managed to obtain this jewel is, of course, a question. We know how carefully Giancana keeps Modene’s apartment swept of bugs, but let us assume the exterminator had a hangover that morning, or was sufficiently implicated in one criminal matter or another to be obliged to do a job for the Bureau.
MODENE: Why won’t you take me to San Francisco? I feel like going.
GIANCANA: You won’t have a good time. It’s business.
MODENE: You are seeing Phyllis.
GIANCANA: McGuire is on tour in Europe. She is in Madrid. I’ll show you the clipping.
MODENE: Yes, you care so much about her that you cut out clippings and keep them in your pocket.
GIANCANA: I got to. That’s the only way you’ll believe she is where she is.
MODENE: She is your Number One girl. That’s what she is. Do you know what I am?
GIANCANA: Don’t get crude.
MODENE: I am cleaned out. An empty bag.
GIANCANA: Don’t talk that way.
MODENE: I am a surgical shell.
GIANCANA: Will you keep your voice down?
MODENE: Why don’t you take Number Two to San Francisco now that Number One is away?
GIANCANA: I can’t, baby.
MODENE: Because you don’t want to.
GIANCANA: It is because of your stipulations.
MODENE: What are you talking about?
GIANCANA: The night I took you to Denver. You stipulated the kind of room. No suite. Just one room. I can’t spend time in one room. I need space.
MODENE: Well, I must have it arranged so that there is only one room. I cannot rattle around in a suite. I told you. I hear things in the next room. When we are off on a weekend, you go away for hours. So I want to know that I am safe in one room with a double-bolted door.
GIANCANA: How can we go anywhere, Modene? You are not in the right kind of shape. What if the FBI jumps us at the airport?
MODENE: Don’t take me.
GIANCANA: Just let me get a suite at the St. Francis, and I will take you along.
MODENE: It has to be a single room.
GIANCANA: I’ll get a suite for me, and a single for you. When I go out to see people, you can stay in the single. We’ll sleep in the suite.
MODENE: I will not sleep in a suite. During the night, I hear noises in the other room.
GIANCANA: Then stay right here and get drunk.
MODENE: Since you have given me the choice, I prefer to stay here. But I need money for moving expenses.
GIANCANA: Yeah, what town are you moving to?
MODENE: I am remaining in Chicago. But I am moving to a studio apartment with a single room. (November 15, 1962)
Harry, I do not know if you wish to contact Modene, but I have, after some deliberation, enclosed her new address and phone number. It is in the small sealed envelope also enclosed in this manila envelope. I hope you will not call on too small an impulse.
I do miss you. If only we could find a way to see one another without risking all our inner discipline.
K.