Eliot Ness: The Real Story
by Paul Heimel
Knox Books
$12.95 Paperback
Robert Stack made him famous, and Kevin Costner made him sexy. Neither, however, got it right. These may be the men we think of when we think of Eliot Ness, but they don't really even come close.
Ness, leader of "The Untouchables," is one of Prohibition-era Chicago's most famous names. Next, of course, to arch-villain Al Capone. Capone brought liquor to the parched masses, and Ness brought the law to Capone.
Paul Heimel, a Pennsylvania journalist, thinks he's found the real Eliot Ness. In Eliot Ness: The Real Story, he pays homage to Ness and all he did, without glamorizing the sordid details. The Prohibition days were by far the most exciting, but Heimel tells it like it was, not like tabloid thrill-seekers wish it could have been.
In the late '20s and early '30s, Ness was a clean-cut do-gooder who really, really wanted to work for the FBI. In his work for the Treasury Department, his job was to keep Chicago dry. Prohibition was in full effect, but bootleg booze flowed from every possible location. Ness spent his time busting stills and tracking the badass gangsters who controlled the black market.
Ness battered down doors and roughed up the bad guys; he tapped their phone lines and went undercover to spy on them. And, making enemies on both sides of the law, he didn't accept bribes and he reported everything to his superiors. He was something between a renegade cop who takes no prisoners and that jerk from spelling class who always ratted you out.
After making his name here in Chicago, Ness moved on to Cleveland, where he was Director of Public Safety. There, he rooted out the bad guys and kicked some more ass in the name of making peace. An unsuccessful bid for Chicago mayor and some failed business ventures later, he settled in Pennsylvania. There he died an unglamorous, embarrassing death. The myth of Eliot Ness the Hero died well before he collapsed over his kitchen sink-and Ness the washout never got a chance to see the myth restored.
Just before the end, a man named Oscar Fraley collaborated with him on a book about his experiences in Chicago. The Untouchables was heavily fictionalized to please the publishers who knew that blood-n-guts sells books. Sure, Ness's life was more interesting than your average wage slave's- - but everything he did came with the territory. And the macho stud portrayed on film and television was really just a mild-mannered man with a taste for doing the right thing.
Ness died before the book was published, which is probably for the best, since it didn't make a huge impact when it hit the stands. But it caught the attention of network TV, which then created the series starring Robert Stack. From there, the rest is revisionist history.
In a time when sensationalism reigns supreme, Heimel's book is a minor landmark in the publishing world. He pulls no punches and doesn't pretend at the truth. Although it ventures occasionally into the folksy, Eliot Ness tells a story that hasn't yet been told. And he does it with clarity, wit, and an objectivity that isn't usually granted to fallen heroes.
--Temple Lentz
