January 24, 1933
Charles Solomon—colourfully known as “King” Solomon—was the pre-eminent bootlegger in Boston during the 1920s. Of course, he had other interests as well—narcotics, gambling, pandering. But for Solomon, the demon rum was king, and he used his fleet of ships to bring in liquor from Central American and Canada. Solomon sold prime stuff then, not the homemade rotgut that some bootleggers would foist on their hapless customers. And for “King” Solomon, court was his nightclub, the Cocoanut Grove, one of the most popular spots in Boston.
Solomon owned the Grove from 1927 until his death in 1933, and it was a classy joint. Decorated in a South Sea island theme, the Grove featured swaying palm trees and a roof that would slide back in order to enhance the atmosphere. Many’s the time the King could be found there, surrounded by celebrities and taking care of mob business. After leaving the Grove, Solomon would do the rounds of Boston’s other hot spots, such as the Cotton Club.
As a major power in Massachusetts, Solomon was a Boston representative at the Atlantic City Conference that took place in 1929. The Conference was an early mob summit and anyone who was anyone in gangland was there. The get-together was hardly clandestine, and throughout the festivities the press was on hand to snap shots of Enoch “Nucky” Johnson, Meyer Lansky, Dutch Schultz and Charlie Luciano. But though there was plenty of entertainment at the Conference, it was not all play and no work. The meeting represented the first large step toward the real organization of crime and paved the way for the creation of the National Crime Syndicate.
Unfortunately the spirit of cooperation, peace and brotherly love that the Conference tried to engender did not translate to Boston itself. During the late 1920s and early 1930s, several rival groups contended for supremacy in the city. Making a lot of noise was Philip Buccola, boss of what would later become Boston’s powerful Patriarca family. Buccola (a gangster who lived to be 101) had his enforcers and wise guys making the rounds, wiping out the competition as they went. As the Buccola goons made their way to the Cocoanut Grove and Solomon’s seat of power, the King’s days as top dog were numbered.
The hit came in the early morning of January 28, 1933, after Solomon had left the Grove and headed to the Cotton Club to dance away the wee hours. In attendance were a couple of chorus girls whom Solomon was entertaining for the evening. At some time during the celebrations, Solomon excused himself and headed to the men’s room. So did two broken-nose types and during the scuffle, which could be heard on the dance floor, Solomon received several slugs in the chest and neck. That was the end of Charles Solomon.
No one registered any astonishment when Buccola advanced his position in the city and became the rising star in Boston. The king was dead, long live the king.