Monday, November 19, 2007

Amazing Stories...

An Amazing Story - Al Capone, His Lawyer & HistoryMany years ago, Al Capone virtually owned Chicago.Capone wasn't famous for anything heroic. He wasnotorious for enmeshing the windy city in everythingfrom bootlegged booze and prostitution to murder.Capone had a lawyer nicknamed "Easy Eddie." He was hislawyer for a good reason. Eddie was very good! Infact, Eddie's skill at legalmaneuvering kept Big Al out of jail for a long time.To show his appreciation, Capone paid him very wellNot only was the money big, but also Eddie got specialdividends. For instance, he and his family occupied afenced-in mansion with live-in help and all of theconveniences of the day.The estate was so large that it filled an entireChicago City block. Eddie lived the high life of theChicago mob and gave little consideration tothe atrocity that went on around him.Eddie did have one soft spot, however. He had a sonthat he loved dearly. Eddie saw to it that his youngson had the best of everything: clothes, cars and agood education. Nothing was withheld. Price was noobject. And, despite his involvement with organizedcrime, Eddie even tried to teach him right from wrong.Eddie wanted his son to be a better man than he was.Yet, with all his wealth and influence, there were twothings he couldn't give his son; he couldn't pass on agood name and a good example.One day, Easy Eddie reached a difficult decision. EasyEddie wanted to rectify wrongs he had done. He decidedhe would go to the authorities and tell the truthabout Al "Scarface" Capone, clean up his tarnishedname and offer his son some semblance of integrity. Todo this, he would have to testify against The Mob, andhe knew that the cost would be great. So, hetestified.Within the year, Easy Eddie's life ended in a blaze ofgunfire on a lonely Chicago Street. But in his eyes,he had given his son the greatest gifthe had to offer, at the greatest price he would everpay.Police removed from his pockets a rosary, a crucifix,a religious medallion and a poem clipped from amagazine.The poem read:The clock of life is wound but once And no man has the power To tell just when the hands will stop At late or early hour.Now is the only time you own.Live, love, toil with a will.Place no faith in time.For the clock may soon be still. Story courtesy of my good friend corazon

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