The Devil Looks After His Own

Charlie Wall–the name elicits powerfully excited responses from those in Tampa who remember him from their childhood years in Ybor City or whose parents and grandparents told them stories of him. He was the White Shadow, Tampa’s original crime lord, Tampa’s answer to Al Capone, John Gotti, and Lucky Luciano. He was Ybor City’s Godfather. It seems everyone who was alive during Charlie Wall’s reign as Tampa’s underworld kingpin has a romantic story to tell about the gangster–how he thumbed his nose at the life of luxury he was born into to go into business with the dregs of society; how he gave candy and money to the neighborhood children; how he survived multiple assassination attempts; how he’d stroll down Seventh Avenue in his pristine white suit, flipping a coin in the air; leaning on his cane and tipping his hat to every beautiful woman he passed; and, of course, how he ran Tampa’s illegal lottery, bolita.

But, outside of these general tidbits, few know the whole story of Charlie Wall and the detailed facts behind his life and reign over Tampa, which is a shame, considering that few individuals had a larger influence over Tampa’s history than Charlie Wall. He fixed countless elections in Tampa for over three decades. He financially backed the cigar workers during the famous strikes. He turned Tampa into the Southern version of the Wild West, with whorehouses and gambling parlors on seemingly every corner in Ybor City and West Tampa and shootouts in broad daylight. He owned politicians, law enforcement officials, and judges. The romantic stories people remember about Charlie Wall always revolve around how he controlled Tampa’s underworld, which highly underestimates his life. He owned more than the underworld. For over three decades, Charlie Wall owned Tampa.

Charlie Wall’s roots can be traced back as early as the mid-1840s to his grandfather, Perry Wall, a pioneer who migrated south during the second Seminole War. Perry Wall settled in the highlands of Hernando County just north of Brooksville and went on to establish a successful career, first as a probate judge and later as postmaster.

Perry Wall’s children all grew into successful adults, but none more successful than John P. Wall. John P. Wall became a doctor and served for the Confederacy during the Civil War. He was not in favor of the Confederacy’s cause, but felt he couldn’t turn his back on wounded soldiers simply because of their political beliefs. When the war was over, he turned to research and in 1873 became the first American doctor to conclude that yellow fever was carried by mosquitoes. He later founded the first hospital focusing solely on serving yellow fever patients.

John P. Wall was also a successful writer and politician. He was associate
editor of the Sunland Tribune, which later became the Tampa Tribune; served as mayor of Tampa from 1878–1880; mapped out many of the routes through the Florida wilderness that are used by the Florida highway system today; and assisted Vicente Martinez Ybor in establishing Ybor City.

With such credentials, it’s easy to see why John P. Wall was able to win the heart of Matilda McKay, a member of the famous McKay family, one of the richest families in the state of Florida and a founding family of Tampa. John P. Wall and Matilda McKay were married in 1872. Shortly thereafter, Matilda McKay’s sister married into the Lykes family, another of Tampa’s founding families, uniting three of Tampa’s most powerful families–the Walls, McKays, and Lykes.

John and Matilda gave birth to one son–Charlie, in March 1880. With his family’s money and credentials behind him, Charlie Wall had the world at his feet. Unfortunately, his would-be perfect life took a turn for the worse early on.

Matilda passed away in 1893 and John P. Wall married his housekeeper, Louise Williams, just six months later. John P. Wall’s career as a doctor and politician often took him away from home for extended periods of time, leaving young Charlie with his new stepmom, a woman he grew to hate for her lavish spending of his father’s money. Then, in April 1895, John P. Wall passed away. Louise Williams was now Charlie Wall’s official guardian. Upon inheriting a portion of the Wall fortune, her lifestyle became even more extravagant–she’d wear ostrich-feathered hats and would bedeck herself in jewels. The more she spent the more obstinate young Charlie became towards her.

In order to avoid her altogether, young Charlie began staying away from home for days and weeks at a time, sleeping in ditches by night and hanging out in saloons, gambling houses and whorehouses–the only places that would allow a young runaway to stick around without lecturing him. Some of the criminals who were regulars at these establishments of ill-repute grew fond of the scrappy young kid who hung around the adults. They began teaching him their trades, and, with that, Charlie Wall’s life in crime began.

At the age of 12, tired of his stepmother, he shot her with a .22 rifle and wounded her. His uncle sent him to Bingham Military School in North Carolina. A romanticized story about young Charlie claims he was expelled for hanging around gambling and whorehouses in North Carolina. While he was expelled during his first year at the military school, according to school records, it was for the unromantic crime of cheating on a test.

Upon expulsion, he returned to Tampa and, with no consistent parental supervision, also returned to the seedy establishments that took him in prior to his stint in military school. By the age of 14 or 15, young Charlie was dealing craps in a casino in Fort Brooke and running numbers for some of the larger bolita dealers in Tampa who saw great potential in a criminally minded boy with white collar ties. With the last name of Wall, Charlie could get into places common criminals could not– country clubs, five-star restaurants, upscale bars and even City Hall–and sell bolita numbers.

Though he lacked a formal education, Charlie Wall was an intelligent businessman, even as a teenager. He saved every penny he could and as his bankroll grew, he ceased working as a runner for bolita dealers and began bankrolling bootleg liquor operations and his own bolita games.
Bolita was the illegal lottery of Tampa, a prelude to today’s legal lottery. One hundred little wooden or ivory balls numbered 1 thru 100 would be placed in a bag and gamblers would bet on what number or three numbers would be pulled.

With a payoff of 85-1, a winning number would pay big dividends to the winner. Everyone in Tampa was playing–the rich and poor; black, white and Latin; men and women. In 1927, over 300 bolita parlors were located in Tampa and an estimated 1,200 bolita parlors infiltrated every segment of Tampa. In 1927, over $20 million was played on the game. Bolita was able to flourish in such a way because the police and politicians allowed it–and the reason they allowed it was because of Charlie Wall.

Charlie Wall’s major play came in 1910 when the cigar workers went on strike in Tampa. Supportive of their cause, Charlie Wall financially backed the struggling cigar workers. He bought them food and paid for their medical bills so they could continue the strike. Though in the end they lost the strike, the cigar workers of Tampa forever after had an undying love for Charlie Wall.

Knowing he had the full support of the blue collar men and women of Ybor City and West Tampa, Charlie Wall made his move. He began backing political candidates, promising them he could deliver the votes of West Tampa and Ybor City. His many supporters would vote for whomever he told them to, and would look the other way when Charlie Wall had the ballot boxes stuffed or had individuals vote for his candidates up to 10 times. In return for his support, candidates had to allow Charlie Wall’s bolita parlors and brothels to operate, unbothered. And, if there was an illegal operation in Tampa not backed by Charlie Wall, he’d have the police shut it down, forcing almost every gambling parlor and whorehouse in Tampa to give Charlie Wall a portion of their business. Some bolita parlors brought in $57,000 on a good night with Charlie Wall taking home half of it. To add to his riches, Charlie Wall would have bolita games fixed to ensure a highly wagered-upon number wouldn’t win. Bolita dealers would fill balls with lead so they would sink to the bottom or freeze a ball so it would be easy to find in the bag.

Of course, with great power comes great risk. He refused to live his life in fear, though. Rather than building a home in the countryside, away from the danger, he built a mansion in Ybor City, which made him an easy target. Hitmen would drive by his house and take shots at him as he sat on his porch or pulled into his driveway. He wasn’t an idiot, though. He didn’t just build a mansion. He built a fortress. His porch, where he liked to sit and read the paper on a nice day, had two giant pillars built into it, large enough for him to safely duck behind when shots were fired. And his garage had a metal tunnel leading from it to his house. If hitmen were following him home, all he needed to do was escape into his garage and he could safely make it into his home, where third-floor windows were adorned with gun racks so he could return fire.

Assassination attempts became a regular part of the workday for Charlie Wall. Tales of his exciting escapes from sure death are legendary in Ybor City. He once dove behind a car as a hitman unloaded clips of ammunition at him, and escaped any serious injury. On another occasion he ducked under his steering wheel as bullets ripped through his car seat, whizzing just inches over his head. His most famous escape was when his car was pinned between two hitmen on Nebraska Avenue, one in front of the car and one on the side. In order to escape, his driver and bodyguard, Baby Joe, stood on the car’s running board and returned fire while driving backwards through traffic. They escaped unharmed.

But there was one enemy Charlie Wall’s bodyguards couldn’t protect him from – himself. Addicted to morphine, Charlie Wall’s arms were covered with puncture scars. One of his drivers, “Scarface” Johnny Rivera, used to tell tales of neighbors calling him late at night, informing him that Charlie Wall was stumbling around the neighborhood in nothing but his night shirt. Rivera would always hurry over and bring his boss home.

In 1928, one of Charlie Wall’s former companions, Isabella Knowles, went to him in search of morphine, complaining of withdrawal pains. Charlie Wall wrote a note for her to bring to one of his lieutenants, George “Saturday” Zarate, asking Zarate to give her what she wanted. Unknown to both of them, Knowles was working as a federal informant. Both Zarate and Charlie Wall were arrested and charged with selling narcotics.

At the trial, Charlie Wall took the stand in his own defense. He never denied he wrote the note, but said he only did so to help Isabella Knowles because she said she was suffering from withdrawal. Zarate received 10 years in prison but Charlie Wall was acquitted. In later years, he buried his morphine supply near his home and drove to Indiana for drug rehabilitation.

But, he had one addiction he could never kick–his addiction to power, an addiction that blinded him to a stark reality–there is only so far you can push the limits of corruption before someone is forced to push back.

His downfall began in 1934. Claude Pepper and Park Trammel were competing in an election for state Senate and Charlie Wall was backing Trammel. Whether Trammel asked for this support is unknown. What is known is that Charlie Wall’s support guaranteed Trammel would win Ybor City and Tampa. The only question was how many votes would Charlie Wall allow Pepper to receive? In one particular district in West Tampa, Charlie Wall decried that Pepper would only receive two votes. When all the votes were tallied statewide, Pepper lost the election by 3,000 votes. In Ybor City and West Tampa, he lost by 6,000 votes. It was Wall’s high water mark–he’d won a statewide election for a candidate.

The state of Florida was embarrassed by this incident and vowed to not allow another corrupt election to occur in Tampa. The following year, 1935, D.B. McKay and Robert E. Chauncey were embroiled in a heated election for mayor of Tampa. In order to squash any corruption, the National Guard was called in to guard the ballot boxes. Even when faced with the military weapons, Charlie Wall’s supporters tried to stuff the ballot boxes and total bedlam erupted throughout the city. Men and women were beaten to death in riots, poll workers were threatened, and dozens of men were arrested for repeat voting, including Charlie Wall’s old friend, George “Saturday” Zarate. During the election madness, a hurricane rumbled through Florida with winds exceeding 100 miles per hour. By the time the election turmoil and the hurricane winds finally died down, the city of Tampa was in ruins in terms of infrastructure and reputation.

The election made national headlines. Embarrassed, the city finally decided it had to end the corruption. To do so, it replaced the paper ballot system with lever machines. Unable to stuff the ballot boxes, Charlie Wall could no longer handpick city leaders. No longer protected by the city and no longer untouchable, other criminal syndicates were allowed to flourish, specifically the Sicilian mafia.

In 1938, Charlie Wall’s good friend and business partner Tito Rubio was gunned down in front of their gambling parlor, the Lincoln Club. Charlie Wall knew the police would have to visit the club as part of their investigation. His friends and supporters begged him to clean out all the gambling equipment and shut the club down. He refused, stating he hoped that by keeping it operational the murderer would return to come after him. The murderer never returned to the club. When the police arrived to investigate the scene of the murder and found the Lincoln Club still operating, they arrested Charlie Wall and charged him with running an illegal-gambling establishment.

Charlie Wall was again acquitted, but not before he promised to tell the grand jury everything they wanted to know about Tampa’s underworld. He claimed that by doing so, he hoped it would help the police find his friend’s murderer. The murderer was never found and when word got out that Charlie Wall had sung to the grand jury, his support dwindled even more. By 1940, Charlie Wall’s power was usurped by the Sicilians. Around 1942 a powerless Charlie Wall left Tampa for Miami and faded into retirement. For a man accustomed to living in the public eye and being treated like a king wherever he went, his new life of obscurity was a tough pill to swallow.

Then, in 1950, the Special Committee to Investigate Organized Crime, better known as the Kefauver Committee, steamrolled through the nation. In an effort to end the organized crime racket that was taking over every major city in the United States, Senator Estes Kefauver formed a committee that travelled the nation, stopped in the nation’s most corrupt cities, subpoenaed that city’s most notorious individuals, and questioned them under oath about the criminal syndicate in the city. Most of the individuals called to the stand denied their roles in any corrupt activities. But, when the committee came to Tampa, one individual gladly testified about his role in the Tampa underworld–Charlie Wall.

Returning to the public eye for the first time since leaving Tampa, the now retired and powerless Charlie Wall took the stand and openly discussed his former life as a crime lord in Tampa during the earlier part of the century. His quick wit, engaging personality and intriguing stories about fixing bolita games and escaping assassination attempts kept the city of Tampa hanging on his every word throughout his testimony. The next day, Charlie Wall was the talk of the town and back in the limelight. He moved back to Tampa fulltime and, though he had little power, discovered he could again be the center of attention simply by telling his old stories. While the residents of Tampa loved his stories, Tampa’s Sicilian mafia grew angry because when Charlie Wall began drinking, he’d cease telling old stories and turn his attention to running down the way the Sicilians operated their illegal activities.

This went on for four years. Charlie Wall’s friends continued to tell him to keep quiet or he’d soon be dead. He never listened and on April 19, 1955, he was found murdered in the bedroom of his home. His head was bashed in with a black jack and a bat and his neck was sliced from ear to ear. On the dresser in his bedroom where he was found dead was Estes Kefauver’s book, Crime in America, which was a summary of his findings during the crime hearings throughout the nation.

While the police had a few suspects, including Charlie Wall’s former drivers–Baby Joe and Scarface Johnny–no one was ever charged. It is believed, though, that the murderer was someone who Charlie Wall knew. There was no forced entry into the home, so Charlie Wall had to have let the killer in. There was also no sign of struggle in the house, meaning Charlie Wall trusted the killer enough to allow him into his bedroom.

It’s been nearly five decades since the murder and it remains a mystery, but, the legend of Charlie Wall has endured.

Charlie Wall used to say that he survived as long as he did because the “devil looks after his own.” And, for over three decades, the devil kept a close watch on Charlie Wall, during which time he controlled the city of Tampa in a way that no individual had done before or has done since. But on April 19, 1955, the devil must have found someone else to look after, and the life of one of Tampa’s most colorful figures came to a dark end.

Traces of Charlie Wall’s legacy can still be found in every corner of Tampa–in the halls of the city’s municipal buildings through the names and photos of the countless city leaders he secretly helped to elect; in Ybor City’s social clubs through the games of bolita still thrown for special events; or in bookstores throughout the city in novels he inspired. Throughout the city of Tampa, if you look closely at those places where the sunlight doesn’t shine so bright, you’ll still see traces of Charlie Wall’s shadow–the White Shadow.

Cigar City – Issue 35 – November 2011