December 2, 1959
Jack Whalen, aka Jack O’Hara, should have had everything. He stood 6ft tall and had Fifties-style matinée idol looks. Whalen could have been a movie star. He should have been a movie star. It would have been better than tangling with Mickey Cohen—one of Los Angeles’ most notorious mob bosses.
Everything seemed set to work for Whalen. As a youngster, he’d gone to a private military school where he’d hobnobbed with the offspring of the wealthy and played polo in between classes. In World War II he had been a hero, a bomber pilot who’d downed his share of Nazis. And when he returned from overseas he had married into one of the richest families in Los Angeles. There was absolutely no reason why Whalen couldn’t have had it all. He must just have been drawn to the seamier side of life.
Whalen was pretty tough; he could smash heads together—and often did—with the best of them. He relied on his muscle to get the job done and was so tough that he’d take care of business without using a gun. They called him “The Enforcer”. Truth be told, Whalen was practically a mob all by himself.
Like others of the time, Jack Whalen had tried to muscle in on some of Mickey Cohen’s territory when that gangster went to prison. This of course didn’t sit too well with Mickey and by 1959 Jack had taken things too far.
Just before midnight on December 2, 1959, Jack Whalen burst his way into Rondelli’s restaurant, itching for a fight. Present at the restaurant that night were Joe Mars, George Piscitelle and Sam LoCigno, flunkies for Mickey Cohen—and Cohen himself. Whalen was looking for Piscitelle and LoCigno, he said; they owed a bookie client of his nine hundred bucks and he was there to collect.
Arriving at Cohen’s table, Whalen began to rough up Piscitelle and LoCigno, demanding the dough. Shortly after that someone at the table pulled out a gun and shot Whalen right between the eyes. Whalen went down about as hard as you’d expect, and expired soon after.
So, who pulled the trigger that night? Mickey Cohen hadn’t seen what had happened, or so he said. As soon as Whalen started on Piscitelle and LoCigno, Cohen had dived under the table and stayed there until things died down—literally.
During the investigation several guns were found in a trash can outside the restaurant, almost as if they’d been planted there. But what’s even more interesting is that a few days after the murder, Cohen stooge LoCigno showed up at the police station and confessed to the killing. The case went to trial but try as they might, the prosecution could not pin Whalen’s death on Cohen.
After a guilty verdict and an appeal LoCigno eventually got life; more than likely he also got a hefty pay-off from Cohen too. But that’s a heck of a lot better than what Jack Whalen got.