Introducing THE POLISH GANG. A must-have in any library. A classic in the making, The Polish Gang delivers from laugh to bullet. A must-read for American history buffs, action-adventure hounds, and love story fans! The Polish Gang takes you deep into the heart of the Roaring Twenties. It violently shakes your emotions with both good and evil characters. Often lighthearted, yet tenderly thoughtful, Karl J. Niemiec captures a Runyonesque sense of humor. Back Cover: In the grips of the "Roaring Twenties" Detroit was wide open to bootleggers and murderers. Dollars by the fistful were for the taking by anyone strong, cunning, and murderous enough to chance dying for them. A city in a stupor, gone mad with drink, where blood ran at the drop of rum, Detroit became a civilization taken over by strong-armed gang members. During this time of social unrest, at the very height of prohibition, there existed - now only in old-timers' porch swing tales that grow mysteriously dim as time slips by - a small band of young men known as The Polish Gang. Just what happened to The Polish Gang? Where did they go? And why do so few people remember? And why, in a time of such profound documentation and national scrutiny of one city, is there but one small newsprint article hinting about this elusive band of young men? These mysteries and more are answered in The Polish Gang. Inside Flap: Though this story is a complete work of fiction loosely based on my grandfather’s family, the girl in the back seat of my pop’s convertible on the front lawn of Michal’s Bar was not. This is a ‘what if’ she was promised to someone else — a love story set in 1929 Detroit. Inspired by the antics of my pop, Bronislaus (Benny) Niemiec. A must have in any library. Introducing THE POLISH GANG Don't miss this one. The Polish Gang takes you deep into the heart of the Roaring Twenties. It violently shakes your emotions with both good and evil characters. Often lighthearted, yet tenderly thoughtful, Karl J. Niemiec clearly captures a Runyonesque sense of humor. . "So?" Anthony asked after Bartolommeo had finally squeaked and groaned himself into the booth. Bartolommeo motioned the Negro to beat it. The old-timer sauntered off into the shadows of the stage with his push broom. Bartolommeo kept an eye on the sweeper to be sure what he was about to say was not overheard. "It's done. Carlo Axler, ten thousand." "This is a Polish boy, not the Pope." "Perhaps you prefer to have your son do it." "The price of blood money, these men are vampires. I don't think we should go through with this, Bartolo." Anthony's face became so distraught that he appeared to be a pale-skinned Englishman. "This is my daughter found naked and your, soon-to-be, daughter-in-law." Anthony retrieved a tattered telegram from his pocket and began to read aloud. "Nicole is mine, she was never yours. Your families' blood will never run pure." He studied the expression on Bartolommeo's face. It read nothing but trouble. "What kind of hogwash is this, Bartolo? Any bum could've sent it. It happens all the time for Christ's sake." Bartolommeo took the telegram and crumpled it in his stubby hand. "Not to me. Don't you see, Anthony, they've fallen in love. They met at your godforsaken lake and now they're spending nights together. I say this Polish boy sent Nicole this telegram." "We don't know that for sure. I say we hire a real detective." "I say we end the problem right now and pay Carlo the money." "I'd say you've gone mad." "Then mad I've gone. But this Polack won't run off with my only daughter and destroy my family's name." Anthony let the hard truth sink in. Nicole running off with this Polish boy, embarrassing his only son was hard venom to swallow. Reluctantly, "I don't trust reporters so don't get this in the papers. I can't afford a public scandal." A broad, tough smile broke across Bartolommeo's face. "Relax, Mr. Big Shot District Attorney, no one will point their pencil-worn finger at us." "What about O'Garrity? The fool, I don't like him. He couldn't find his way home from a daydream." "That's why he's perfect for this. We've taken every legal step we can take. O'Garrity keeps the boy on the run. His family is, or perhaps could be, involved with illegal running of rum across the Detroit River. If the boy disappears or is brutally murdered, who would be the wiser? Certainly not O'Garrity." "Still, this kind of thing makes me nervous. We're not little boys playing in Palermo any longer." At this, Bartolommeo held up his glass. "Yes, we were troubled young men. To when days were different and we were different men." Bartolommeo took a mouthful and swished it about his hippo teeth. "Salute," Anthony said and did the same, but with much more grace. "Not bad for a couple of old Guineas like you and I." "You and your public life are old, Anthony. I am merely fermenting in the shade like fine wine waiting for my time to be cherished by others." Bartolommeo pulled two hand-rolled cigars