BRUINS' GALLINGER PLACES BET AGAINST HIS TEAM IN CHICAGO

(link to PART 1)

by Michael Madden Boston Globe Staff

Second in a three-part series delving into the NHL gambling scandal of February 1948 that led to the lifetime suspensions of the Bruins ' Don Gallinger and the Rangers' Billy Taylor, who had also played for the Bruins earlier that season.

He phones Detroit gangster Tamer to wager $1,500 on Black Hawks
Boston wins, and wiretap of conversation will cause player to lose his career

The Lake Shore Limited was pulling west, just out of Buffalo and onward toward Cleveland and Chicago. It was Monday, Feb. 16, 1948, and the train was full of travelers, including 14 players, the coach, general manager, and trainer of the Boston Bruins, who had stepped aboard at South Station in Boston.

Even 24 hours after the first rush, adrenaline was flowing through the Bruins. They were still excited, still flush with a pulsating 3-1 victory over the Detroit Red Wings at Boston Garden the previous night, maybe their best game of a thus-far lackluster season.

Player after player talked of goaltender Frankie Brimsek and his 41 brilliant saves. The Brimsek of old. And Woody Dumart was asked to repeat, blow for blow, how he had taught that cocky youngster of the Wings, Gordie Howe, a lesson or two after Howe had gone in alone on Brimsek in the first period, only to have the goalie rob him. A frustrated Howe then crashed into the Boston goalie, sending Brimsek flying from the crease. A furious Dumart, looking for Howe, first leveled Detroit's tough defenseman, “Black Jack” Stewart, then Sid Abel. All within 10 seconds.

But it was Boston's bright young star, Don Gallinger, who had thrown the Gallery Gods into delirium, up in the second balcony of the Garden with their cowbells and whistles. On Howe's next visit to the ice, Gallinger caught the youngster in the comer and delivered a vicious and cheap – but justified – elbow to the face, dropping Howe into a heap.

The 20-year-old Howe had promise for Detroit, but the 23-year-old Gallinger had been delivering for Boston since his rookie season in 1942-43.

But once Gallinger boarded the train to Chicago with his teammates, the cheers and praise from the night before were a distant memory. Gallinger's mind was racing.

“I was saying to myself, ‘Gallinger, you've been up and down like a toilet seat with this,' ” recalled Gallinger recently from his one-room apartment in Burlington, Ontario.

Gallinger's mind raced, the center trying to decide the ultimate question of his life: Was he going to go for the easy money and, in the process, commit the most despicable act any professional athlete could commit?

As always, after reading all seven of Boston's newspapers, Gallinger had hooked up on the long train ride with the one card player all the Bruins had learned to avoid – assistant trainer Hammie Moore – for their usual high-stakes game of gin rummy.

On many road trips, a player might lose several hundred dollars to Moore, a huge sum for guys making $7,500 a season.

Gallinger played for large stakes, “and I'd watch those games with Hammie,” said Bep Guidolin, a former teammate of Gallinger's, “and I'd say to Galley, ‘What are you doing? You're getting in too deep.' And he'd say, ‘I can beat Hammie,' and Hammie would tell me to butt out.' ”

For once, though, Gallinger was not obsessed with the cards. On other train rides, then-Bruins captain Milt Schmidt recalled, Gallinger would kill the boredom by attempting to entice his teammates to bet on happenstance.

“Galley would bet on anything,” said Schmidt, repeating the words of many former Bruins. He would even go so far as to bet on whether the license plate on the next car they saw out of the train window had a 5 in it.

Gallinger thought and thought. Billy Taylor had been traded by the Bruins two weeks earlier, and Taylor had been the one calling that phone number that was now on a piece of paper in Gallinger's pocket – the number of gangster James Tamer in Detroit – to place bets on Bruins games for himself and Gallinger. Taylor had said it was easy. Maybe it was.

When the Lake Shore Limited pulled out of Buffalo, Gallinger thought back to his youth and his gambling in Port Col-borne, Ontario, just 60 or 70 miles from Niagara Falls. As teenagers, he and Ted Kennedy, the icon of the Toronto Maple Leafs, had hustled the local pool-room sharpies for 10s, 20s, and even 100s. And when Gallinger wanted bigger action, he would drive to Welland, the next town over between Port Colborne and St. Catharines, and jump into high-stakes craps games.

But this? This was different.

“I knew my career could be ended,” said Gallinger.

Tamer had given Gallinger his phone number during the Bruins' last visit to Detroit, two weeks ago. Now that Taylor was gone from the Bruins, the gangster wanted to keep the pipeline of information open. Gallinger couldn't decide what to do, but he did keep his torment to himself.

“One thing Billy Taylor had driven home to me,” said Gallinger, “was there was to be no talk of this. There wasn't even going to be a whisper.”

But two other Bruins on that train, forward Jimmy Peters and defenseman Pat Egan, had inklings that something was amiss.

MEMORIES OF MEETINGS

Bruins general manager Art Ross had acquired Peters from Montreal two months earlier in an attempt to fill the gaping hole caused by the retirement of Bobby Bauer, a mainstay on the feared Kraut Line with Schmidt and Woody Dumart. Egan, a brawling and burly defenseman, had been acquired in 1944 by Ross in another futile attempt by the Boston general manager “to find the next Eddie Shore.” Egan was good, but he was no Shore, the Bruins' legendary, terrifying defenseman who had finished his career eight years earlier.

Peters has two distinct memories of what happened around the time of that game in Chicago, and each memory contradicts Gallinger's version. Gallinger has insisted that he met Tamer only twice. The first time was in the presence of Taylor early in the 1947-48 season, “at a nightclub out in the country, some 20 or 35 miles out from Detroit.”

The second time was in early February 1948, at a downtown bar near the Detroit Leland Hotel, where the Bruins stayed. At the second meeting, said Gallinger, he was seated with teammate Wally Wilson when Tamer approached and gave Gallinger his phone number.

“I met James Tamer once,” said Peters, whose memory suggests a possible third meeting between the gangster and Gallinger. “It was in a bar in Detroit near [the Leland Hotel]; I think it was called the Famous Door. I was new to the team then and hadn't made many friends yet, and I was in that bar alone. I can remember it like it was yesterday. It was a long bar and Galley came over and said he wanted me to meet somebody. Gallinger said, ‘Jimmy, I'd like to introduce you to this guy.' It was Jimmy Tamer.

“I'll never forget that name, especially in light of what happened,” said Peters. “I just walked away. I guess that was the smartest thing I ever did in my life.”

Peters recalled that Gallinger and the gangster were with a group of people, none of whom was a Bruin, and Wilson was nowhere in sight.

Even though he was new to the Bruins, Peters had quickly learned that Gallinger was a heavy bettor. Peters also lived in Ruthie Hatch's boardinghouse at 165 Bay State Road in Boston with Gallinger, Taylor, and other Bruins, “and I've seen Galley and Taylor cut a deck of cards for $500 just before a game – high card for $500 -it'd be at the boardinghouse,” said Peters.

Peters's memory was in conflict with Gallinger's on another matter. Gallinger said he was not betting on hockey games because he needed to cover gambling debts. Although Peters cannot remember the exact date – he thought it was around the time of this trip to Chicago – “this happened in Boston,” recalled Peters. “Wally Wilson came back to the boardinghouse and I called to him when he came back, ‘Wally, where've you been?' He said he had just been to a bank to borrow $500 for Don Gallinger.”

Wilson was friendly with Gallinger and also Taylor, the other Bruin who gambled on games; Wilson and Taylor had played together with the Oshawa Generals before coming to the NHL. Gallinger denied that he asked Wilson to borrow money for him.

Egan's memory jibed with Peters's recollection of Wilson going to a bank to borrow $500 for Gallinger. Egan distinctly remembered this incident happening in Boston a few days before the Bruins boarded the train for that fateful trip to Chicago.

“Wally Wilson was in this deeper than anybody realized,” said Egan, “but he's the guy who got away with the most” Specifically, the former defenseman went on, the Bruins had just finished practice at Boston Arena when several players told Egan they would be meeting around the corner at their usual post-practice hangout the Blue Moon, a bar on Massachusetts Avenue.

“This was right before that Chicago game, maybe three or four days before that game,” recalled Egan. “The players said the meeting was just to get together and talk about our hockey team. Anyway, I'm there before the other players and I'm having my beer when that [expletive] Wilson comes in and sits opposite me. He says, ‘Rat, I want to borrow $500.' ”

Even with the passage of a half-century, Egan grew livid at the memory.

“Anyway, I say, ‘Wilson, I don't even know you – he's dodged a lot of bullets, Wilson has; I think he was involved in this a lot deeper than he ever made out to be -and I said,‘I don't even know you; why would I lend you $500?' He never said why he wanted the money and I should have had enough brains to ask him, but I didn't at the time.”

Egan said he was so angry that he left the Blue Moon before other players arrived. The next day, Egan went on, he learned there had been a fistfight among several players at the bar.

“Well, it had to be Gallinger,” said Egan, “and it had to be Wilson.”

Gallinger denied any of this happened; Wilson is dead.

CONNECTION IS MADE

When the train pulled into Chicago on Tuesday afternoon, Feb. 17, 1948, Gallinger had made up his mind. No sooner had the team arrived at the LaSalle Hotel in The Loop than Gallinger removed from his wallet the piece of paper that the Detroit gangster had given him.

Gallinger had decided to make the call. He would bet on the Bruins-Black Hawks game the next night. He would bet on Chicago to win. He had decided to betray his teammates and friends on the Bruins.

Throughout that train ride from Boston, Gallinger had rehearsed what he might say to Tamer in the phone conversation.

“I would never give my name because Taylor had told me not to,” Gallinger recalled. “I was thinking of saying, ‘I like Chicago because the Hawks might play [hard] and win tomorrow night,' and he might get the hang of it that he was talking to a hockey player.”

In 1948, long-distance phone calls could not be made from hotel rooms. There were banks of operators in the lobbies of the finer hotels, and to make a long-distance call, a person would have to give an operator the number and the operator would make the connection. Then the operator would direct the caller to a row of booths in the lobby.

“I had given the operator the number in Detroit to call, and I remember all the booths were along the wall and the operator had told me to go to Booth 8 or something,” recalled Gallinger. “And now the voice comes on the other end and I say, ‘I happen to be in Chicago.' I said, ‘Can you give me the goal spread on the hockey game tomorrow night in Chicago? Between the Black Hawks and Boston?'

“Just as if [I] were a regular gambler. And the voice? I knew it was Tamer's I just knew it And he said, ‘I'm sorry to say we give no goal spreads on the days before the game; you can only get a goal spread on the day of the game, after the noon hour.' And he said, ‘If you want to speak again, you call tomorrow at the same time.'”

Gallinger left the booth. He was confused. He wanted the easy money, but an inner voice was screaming at him.

“Now, this was the first bottleneck into what happened,” Gallinger recalled thinking. “It should have been a tipoff to me, psychologically and morally. I said, ‘Damn it, I didn't like the fact I had to make the call [again].' ”

Once again, Gallinger fought with himself, alternately thinking, “Something like this is a criminal act,” and, “Nobody's being murdered. We're not concocting a murder here.”

FLAWS IN THE DETAILS

Gallinger recalled many vivid details of this visit to Chicago, but some of his recollections are incorrect. For one thing, he said time and again that the team stayed in the Madison Hotel and he made the phone call to Tamer from its lobby. But the Bruins stayed at the LaSalle Hotel in Chicago in the '40s.

For another, Gallinger recalled that this Bruins-Black Hawks game was scheduled for a Sunday night and he had made his first phone call to Thmer on a Saturday afternoon. But the game actually was on Wednesday night and the phone call was made Tiesday afternoon.

Also, Gallinger said one reason he had decided to make the bet was that Boston would be shorthanded for the game. Gallinger recalled correctly that Schmidt, the Bruins captain, was back in Boston with a knee injury suffered two weeks earlier. But Gallinger insisted that John Crawford, one of the Bruins' top defensemen, also missed the game because his newborn daughter was gravely ill in a Boston hospital.

Crawford's daughter, Mary, born three days earlier, was in fact in a life-or-death struggle back in Boston. But Ross, the team's general manager, apparently prevailed on Crawford to make the trip because the Bruins' defense was in desperate straits. Clare Martin had injured his shoulder in the Detroit game three days earlier and could not play in Chicago.

“We thought we'd be down to three defensemen,” recalled Fem Flaman. “Me, Pat Egan, and Murray Henderson.”

When the puck was dropped in Chicago, Martin did not play but Crawford did, even though his daughter had died earlier that day in Boston. Ross kept this news from Crawford until after the game, later explaining that there was no way for Crawford to get back to Boston anyway, since the next flight would not be until the morning. Crawford returned to Boston on that plane Thursday.

Gallinger has no recollection of Martin missing the game, but he has a clear memory that Crawford was absent.

On the day of the game. “I'm back in the lobby and I went right back to the girl and I say to her, Td like to place a straight call, straight through, no person-to-person,' ” said Gallinger. “And she said. ‘What's the number?' She plugs it in and tells me to go to a certain booth.”

Gallinger's life would be forever changed by what he said when he went to that booth.

“The voice comes on again and I know it's Tamer,” Gallinger said. “ ‘I think I spoke to you yesterday on the spread on the game between Boston and Chicago.' ” Gallinger recalled Tamer saying,

“ ‘There's been a lot of action on that game. But what can I do for you?' ” Gallinger answered, “ ‘I really think I would like Chicago in this game. I want Chicago to win for $1,500.' ”

And Tamer replied, according to Gallinger, “ ‘Chicago. You've got it. $1,500.'”

“And I just said, ‘Thank you very much. WeT speak again.' And he hung up.”

TAMER AS THE TARGET

Unknown to Gallinger, Taylor, and Tamer, Detective Lt. William J. Bourke of the Detroit Police Department's vice squad and the Michigan State Parole Board were determined to get James Tamer off the streets of Detroit. Tamer and accomplices had held up the Citizens Commercial and Savings Bank in Flint, Mich., in 1934 and gotten away with $53,000.

Tamer was fingered but not captured until four years later, when he was involved in an auto accident in Florida in which a person was killed. Tamer was arrested in Florida, confessed in 1939 to the holdup, and was sentenced to 15-25 years in Michigan State Prison in Jackson. Six years later, though, after surprisingly quick parole, Tamer was a free man.

Tamer also had been a suspect in the 1937 Thanksgiving Day barroom slaying of Harry Millman, a member of Detroit's notorious Purple Gang that refused to turn over to mobsters its proceeds from various rackets. Tamer also had been mentioned in connection with the 1945 murder of Michigan State Sen. Warren G. Hooper. But he was not charged in either murder.

Tamer's parole term was about to expire, on Feb. 29, 1948. Both the Detroit police and Michigan parole officials thus intensified their investigation of Ihmer and focused their attention on his bar at 543 Woodward Ave. in downtown Detroit.

Police installed an illegal wiretap, a listening device that used copper wire instead of the tape recordings that are common today. Bourke had been monitoring Tamer's activities since January 1947, along with Michigan Liquor Control Commission investigators, in an attempt to uncover the gangsters' hidden ownership of Detroit bars. Bourke also was interested in Tamer's bookmaking, numbers, and any other activities of the man soon to be known as “Detroit's No. 1 gangster.”

On Feb. 18, 1948, the bombshell fell. Police eavesdropped on a phone call to Detroit from Chicago by a man wishing to bet on the Chicago-Boston hockey game. After that call, police were more amazed when a call was placed from Tamer's bar to a hotel in New York City, a person-to-person call, apparently to Billy Taylor, now of the New York Rangers.

Yes, Taylor also would like to bet on the Black Hawks to beat the Bruins. A $500 bet. The players, because of their inside information, were to receive favorable 2-1 odds on their bets, so Gallinger stood to make $3,000 and Taylor $1,000.

THE GAME BEGINS

A few hours after the phone calls, the puck was dropped for the opening faceoff at Chicago Stadium. Egan, as he always did in Chicago, skated over to Black Hawks star Doug Bentley the first chance he got and pointed to the Indian on Bentley's sweater.

“Just to get him mad,” said Egan, “we'd say, ‘Hey, Bentley! Is that your picture on the sweater?' Because he had a nose on him, a bloody nose, and he'd go on a spree.”

Which is exactly what Gallinger expected. In Gallinger's mind, Chicago always started fast in the first period, with Bentley leading the way, “and we always seemed to be down, 2-0, after the first period.”

The Black Hawks, as Gallinger expected, quickly scored first, as Gus Bodnar tallied after 6:21 of play. But a minute later, Dumart whipped an unassisted goal past young Chicago goalie Emile “The Cat” Francis. Former Bruin and Maple Leaf Roy Conacher next beat Brimsek with a 60-foot backhander to give Chicago the lead, 2-1, at 10:03. But Grant “Knobby” Warwick tied it again late in the period.

For Gallinger, and for Taylor 900 miles away in New York, Warwick's goal was a most painful irony. It was Warwick who had come from the Rangers two weeks earlier in the trade for Taylor.

“The game starts and, all of a sudden, we're not dominating the game,” is Gallinger's recollection.

But, he went on, “I knew that wasn't safe because of the way the game was blowing. Because when that Bentley line flies in the first period, they win the game by the first period with two or three goals and then you have a hell of an uphill battle against that line and the rest fall in and they're hard to beat.”

In Gallinger's memory of the game that changed his life, he was thinking in the second period, “I don't like the way the game is flowing. And now when the second period ends, it's 2-2, so we've come back since the first period.”

Once again, his memory is incorrect. The Bruins had taken a 3-2 lead by the end of the second. Gallinger's memory is even more awry when he recalls the third period.

“So, we go into the third period and that thing stayed tied until about the eight- or nine-minute mark to go,” said Gallinger, “and then I broke over the center ice line and I fed a pass to the winning goal, and we move ahead, 3-2.”

Actually, rookie Ed Sandford had given the Bruins the lead on an assist from Dumart at 16:37 of the second period. And the Bruins' final goal of the game came with less than two minutes left, when Dumart took a pass from Sandford and beat Francis.

Very few of the Bruins who played in this game can remember many details. Sandford, for instance, had replaced the injured Schmidt as the center of the top line, “but I don't remember anything about the game,” he said. Dumart, for his part, can remember little of it except, “I scored two goals.”

There is one thing, though, that all the Bruins remember: They won the game, 4-2.

“I never felt anything,” claimed Gallinger. “All I knew was what was happening, that I was losing $1,500 or $3,000. And, before that game was over, I sat on that bench and I said, ‘Gallinger, you can be as hard-nosed as any sonofabitch. You've seen a lot of hard-nosers in your life and now maybe it's your turn to be hard-nosed.'”

At game's end, Gallinger skated behind the goal to the door that led down the steps to the basement of Chicago Stadium and into the locker room. By the time he reached the locker room,
Gallinger had made up his mind. He was not going to pay Tamer the $1,500 he had lost.

“I blew that damned bet,” said Gallinger. I said, ‘If I don't give them the damned money, then it's always in my bank account or in my pocket.' And I said, ‘Gallinger, this may be the greatest lesson you've ever learned and you surely don't ever want to do it again.'

“And I did it. I've never paid that wager to this day.”

The players dressed. A pleased Dit Clapper, the coach, conducted his usual postgame ritual after road games, giving $4 each to the four “cab captains,” who had the responsibility of corraling three other players to share a cab.

“Let me tell you what happened after that game in Chicago, and this is all I remember of it,” said the Bruins' Kenny Smith. “Galley and [Paul] Ronty and [John] Peirson all came back from Chicago Stadium in the same cab with me. I was the cab captain. And I remember Galley said we had to stop, that, ‘I've got to make a phone call.'”

Smith distinctly recalled Gallinger hurrying into the LaSalle Hotel as the others waited outside. Gallinger returned “and he never said anything [about the call] to us,” said Smith.

Was he calling Taylor in New York for advice on what to do?

Gallinger said he did not remember making a call after the game.

The game the Boston Bruins won.

The game Don Gallinger lost.