Latest news with #SamGiancana
Daily Mail
18-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
EXCLUSIVE Hollywood icon is unrecognizable as he morphs into mobster for JFK assassination film... can you guess who?
One of Hollywood's biggest names left fans doing a double take as he stepped into the shoes of a real-life gangster for his latest role. The 71-year-old Oscar nominee, who starred opposite Sissy Spacek in Carrie, was spotted filming in Winnipeg, Canada for the upcoming thriller November 1963, which centers around the events surrounding JFK's assassination. He wore a sharp navy suit, a dark maroon fedora, and vintage shades as he stepped into the role of Johnny Roselli — a real-life Chicago mobster allegedly recruited by the CIA to help assassinate Fidel Castro in the '60s. Even in full costume, the silver screen icon showed flashes of his old charm. At one point, he nimbly hopped over obstacles, a nod to the fancy footwork he once flaunted in Grease and his iconic dance scene with Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction. So who's the Hollywood heavyweight behind the disguise? Cameras caught the 71-year-old film legend on the streets of Winnipeg, where he was deep in character for November 1963 — a thriller digging into the murky underworld tied to JFK's assassination Believe it or not… it's John Travolta! His latest project is a historical thriller that dives deep into the Mafia's rumored ties to the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. The film is based on firsthand accounts from the family of Sam Giancana, the infamous Chicago mob boss whose inner circle overlapped with Kennedy's. Giancana was long rumored to have played a behind-the-scenes role in JFK's death, carried out by Lee Harvey Oswald on November 22, 1963, in Dallas. Adding to the intrigue, Giancana was shot dead in his home in 1975, just before he was scheduled to testify before the Senate. Dermot Mulroney stars as Giancana's top hitman Chuckie Nicoletti, with Mandy Patinkin as consigliere Anthony Accardo. Robert Carlyle plays Jack Ruby — the man who gunned down Oswald on live TV. Rounding out the cast, Jefferson White portrays Oswald, while Thomas Fiscella takes on the role of Giancana. Despite the heavy makeup and costume, the Hollywood legend couldn't hide glimpses of his classic charisma Travolta's shocking transformation comes on the heels of another nostalgic moment, when he stepped back in time to reprise his role as Danny Zuko from the 1978 hit musical at a surprise concert in June. Fans were taken aback after the actor, who has been sporting a shaved head, donned a wig styled into a greaser-friendly ducktail, along with a scruffy beard. Taking the microphone, Travolta delivered some of his iconic lines from the moment Danny Zuko reunites with his Summer Nights sweetheart Sandy (played by the late Olivia Newton-John) on the first day of school at Rydell High. 'Tonight at the Hollywood Bowl, for the first time I surprised everyone at the GREASE Sing-A-Long and dressed up as Danny Zuko,' the Oscar nominee shared on social media at the time. 'No one knew. Not even the cast. Thank you for a great evening,' he said. The jaw-dropping moment left the crowd cheering — and clearly, Travolta isn't done surprising fans just yet.
Winnipeg Free Press
17-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Winnipeg Free Press
Winnipeg goes back in time for cinematic Mob job November 1963
Nicholas (Nicki) Celozzi didn't grow up hearing Mob stories. They came later, in quiet conversations with his uncle Pepe. Over time, Pepe began to open up, sharing memories of people who vanished without explanation, of coded conversations and family ties that ran deeper than most. To the outside world, it was the stuff of true-crime headlines, but to Celozzi — grand-nephew of Mob boss Sam Giancana — it was personal. It was family. ALLEN FRASER / NOVEMBER 1963 Producer/writer Nicholas Celozzi (left) and Kevin DeWalt of Mind's Eye Entertainment Now, decades later, the screenwriter and producer is telling the story he was born into — the kind of story others have tried, and failed, to tell from the outside. His upcoming film November 1963, directed by two-time Academy Award nominee Roland Joffé (The Killing Fields, The Mission), doesn't just revisit a moment in American history. It reclaims it. 'We got tired of people monetizing our family's name. It won't stop unless we put it out there ourselves,' Celozzi says. Celozzi wrote the screenplay and is producing the film alongside veteran Canadian producer Kevin DeWalt of Mind's Eye Entertainment. Production of the independent film began in March, with Winnipeg standing in for 1960s Chicago and Dallas. Post-production is being completed in Saskatchewan, making it a fully Prairie-made project. The film, which unfolds over the 48 hours leading up to the assassination of U.S. president John F. Kennedy, centres not on JFK himself, but on the figures in the shadows — the mobsters, intermediaries and political players whose backdoor dealings helped shape one of the most debated events in modern history. Celozzi doesn't claim to offer a new theory. What he offers is something more elusive: a first-person account shaped by lived experience, family access and deep emotional insight. 'I'm not glorifying anyone, but they were human beings. They were smart, complicated, anxious, and I knew them,' he says. At the heart of the story is Celozzi's uncle Sam — Sam Giancana — head of the Chicago Outfit at its peak. One of the most powerful Italian-American criminal organizations in the U.S. during the 1950s and early '60s, the Outfit, started by Al Capone, had strong links to the Kennedy family during JFK's presidential campaign and presidency. Giancana was the man the government kept tabs on, worked with and, some believe, eventually turned on. 'The Outfit was as powerful as it was because the government helped make it that way,' Celozzi says matter-of-factly. 'They used them to do their dirty work until they didn't need them anymore.' SUPPLIED Sam Giancana was head of the Chicago Mob in the late 1950s and early 1960s. Growing up, Celozzi didn't see any of this as unusual. His childhood was shaped by an unspoken awareness that everyone around him grew up fast. 'It was a strange normality. You just knew not to ask too many questions.' But questions came anyway, especially from the outside. With every poorly researched documentary or dramatized gangster flick — the 1995 film Sugartime stars John Turturro as Giancana — his family became further distorted. 'All these caricatures yelling and swearing, running like football players down a field — that's not them. I wanted people to see the real people behind the headlines,' he says. To do that, he knew he'd have to walk a tightrope. 'The hardest part was being truthful without hurting people. Sam's daughters are still alive. I'm closest to two of them. Bonnie is a creative consultant on the project. Without her, I wouldn't have done this.' That sense of responsibility runs through every line of the screenplay. 'I wrote characters, not caricatures. These men weren't supermen. They had ulcers. They broke down. They second-guessed. They masked their fear. I know that because I saw it,' he explains, DeWalt says he wasn't sure what to make of it when Celozzi first brought him the story six years ago — even though they'd met decades earlier at a social event in Regina. 'I said, 'Really? This is a true story?'' he recalls. ALLEN FRASER / NOVEMBER 1963 The Exchange District is transformed into Dallas for November 1963. But then Celozzi flew him to San Diego to meet Bonnie Giancana. 'She looked me in the eye and said, 'Our family wants the truth told.' That moment changed everything.' According to DeWalt, what makes the project so compelling is its emotional authenticity. 'Nobody in the family is proud of this, but it's a story about loyalty, betrayal and the grey areas of history,' he says. What also sets November 1963 apart is its refusal to retread worn conspiracy theories. It's a story that's never been told. The film moves fast, but its emotional core is nuanced. The decision to use split screens and simultaneous storylines was rooted in how Celozzi first heard the story himself, from his uncle Joseph (Pepe) Giancana. 'He was the fly on the wall. Now the audience gets to be that fly,' Celozzi says. Each of the film's central characters is based on a real person (most of whom are now deceased), giving the cast rare access to historical materials. Actors studied interviews, documents and photos to shape their portrayals. In some cases, they even stayed with relatives of the characters they were playing. 'Roland Joffé spent three days living in one character's actual home, working with the actor to really get inside the role. It's been that detailed, that immersive,' DeWalt says. Casting the right actors to embody such emotionally loaded material was critical. 'I didn't want anyone who thought this was just another gangster movie; these roles come with weight,' Celozzi says. ALLEN FRASER / NOVEMBER 1963 The period cars on set were all locally sourced. 'I was in the room with the actors. I could say, 'No, that's not how he walked. That's not how he looked at you.' And they embraced that.' The star-studded cast includes John Travolta (Pulp Fiction) as Johnny Roselli; Robert Carlyle (The Full Monty) as Jack Ruby; Dermot Mulroney (My Best Friend's Wedding) as Chuckie Nicoletti; Mandy Patinkin (Homeland) as Anthony Accardo; Jefferson White (Yellowstone) as Lee Harvey Oswald; and Thomas Fiscella (The Mysterious Benedict Society) as Sam Giancana. The production team scouted locations in New Orleans and Atlanta before discovering the texture and scale they needed in the Winnipeg. The Exchange District's turn-of-the-century facades are now doubling as Dallas and Chicago circa 1963, complete with vintage signage, authentic period wardrobe and more than 75 classic cars sourced locally. 'It's the only place in North America where you can find eight blocks by eight blocks that look like the 1940s or '50s. The production value is extraordinary. When you see this movie, it will feel like you're standing on the Grassy Knoll in 1963,' DeWalt says. Of course, mounting a project of this scale hasn't been easy. With more than 200 crew members and an estimated 1,500 background actors, it's the largest production ever undertaken by Mind's Eye Entertainment. There's also a strong emotional undercurrent for DeWalt, who still remembers the day Kennedy was shot. 'I was a kid, but I remember the silence in the house, the shock. It was like 9/11 — the world stopped. And to now be helping tell a story that humanizes that moment … it's just a thrill on a human level.' So what will audiences take away? 'I hope they walk out thinking, 'That makes sense.' I'm not trying to control how they feel. I'm just putting the truth in front of them,' DeWalt says. ALLEN FRASER / NOVEMBER 1963 November 1963 is being shot in locations around Winnipeg. Celozzi knows that truth is unsettling. He knows it raises more questions about government complicity, secrecy and power than it answers. He knows there are echoes in today's headlines. But he's not afraid. 'The last person who might've had a problem with this died in 2014. And the rest? They've either gone quiet or given me their blessing,' he says. Weekly A weekly look at what's happening in Winnipeg's arts and entertainment scene. What about his uncles? Would they approve? 'I don't think Sam would be too happy, but I think he knew I'd do it one day,' he says of the Mafia boss, who died in 1975 at age 67 after being shot seven times while in the basement of his home. There are numerous theories and suspects about who killed Giancana and why, but officially his murder remains unsolved. At the end of the day, Celozzi isn't trying to rewrite history, just to correct its tone. To show that the men behind the myths had routines, regrets and love in their lives. That they dressed up for Halloween. That they cried alone after losing a spouse. That they were more than the headlines. 'I'm not saying bad things didn't happen. I'm saying they were human.' arts@ If you value coverage of Manitoba's arts scene, help us do more. Your contribution of $10, $25 or more will allow the Free Press to deepen our reporting on theatre, dance, music and galleries while also ensuring the broadest possible audience can access our arts journalism. BECOME AN ARTS JOURNALISM SUPPORTER Click here to learn more about the project.
Daily Mail
30-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
Marilyn Monroe claimed she ‘knew dangerous secrets about the Kennedys'
Published: 09:57 BST, 30 June 2025 | Updated: 09:57 BST, 30 June 2025 Jazz singer and pianist Buddy Greco was sitting outside Frank Sinatra's bungalow in Lake Tahoe when a limousine pulled up and 'this gorgeous woman in dark glasses steps out'. It was Marilyn Monroe. She greets him with a big hug around the neck. He finds her 'smart, funny, intelligent, if fragile'. Along with English actor Peter Lawford and his wife Pat, they were guests of Sinatra for the weekend. Killed? Marilyn Monroe reportedly claimed to know potentially damaging secrets about the Kennedy family shortly before her untimely death Also invited are a number of Sinatra's other Hollywood friends and Mafia associates like Sam Giancana. Sinatra and the Lawfords are aware of what's been going on with Marilyn and the Kennedys – used and dumped by Jack and Bobby – and are hoping that getting her out of Los Angeles will distract her. Over the past few weeks she has become depressed and withdrawn. She's seen few people except her housekeeper Mrs Murray and her doctors – her psychiatrist Dr Ralph Greenson 28 times in the last 35 days, and her physician Dr Hyman Engelberg 13 times. That night, after Greco walks off stage after performing The Lady Is A Tramp, his big 1960 hit, he spots an unsteady Marilyn standing in the doorway, clearly intoxicated, defiant and angry. He hears her say: 'Who the f*** are they all staring at?' Sinatra is quick to react. He calls over his bodyguard, who scoops up the tiny blonde and carries her away. Greco is worried about her and follows her outside to make sure she's all right. He finds Marilyn sitting alone by the pool in the moonlight, looking pale and out of it, so he escorts her back to her bungalow. She passes the next hours suspended in a fog. She may have nearly overdosed. She may have fallen out of bed. She may have been unknowingly assaulted. She can't remember. Secrets? Bobby and Jack Kennedy were rumoured lovers of Marilyn The next day she is flown back to Los Angeles with Lawford on Sinatra's private plane. She stumbles off, barefoot and bedraggled, and gets into a limo waiting to take her home. On his way home, Lawford stops to make a lengthy phone call from a pay phone. Marilyn's a loose cannon, and there are people he has to warn. Marilyn is now on a mission, complaining to anyone who'll listen that the Kennedy brothers used her. She calls her friend Bob Slatzer, fuming: 'I'm going to blow the lid off this whole damn thing! I'm going to tell everything! That the Kennedys got what they wanted out of me then moved on!' When she hears that Bobby will be attending a legal conference in San Francisco, 350 miles north of Los Angeles, she plans to confront him there. Bobby arrives in San Francisco with his wife Ethel and four of their children. From home, Marilyn tries several times to contact him at his hotel, but to her fury he's not answering her calls. Friends attempt to calm her down and talk her out of holding the threatened press conference. Try to be a little more discreet, Slatzer cautions. Everyone is worried about her state of mind. If she talks to the press in her current state, who knows what she'll say? She is being monitored in case she flips. Dr Greenson comes over once every day, sometimes twice. Lawford invites her to near-daily gatherings. Her publicist Pat Newcomb finds pretexts to sleep over at Marilyn's house. One night they go out to a restaurant, Marilyn drinks too much, then swallows sleeping pills in an attempt to get some rest. But sleep is elusive, not least because she is repeatedly woken by the shrill ringing of the white telephone by her bed, her personal line. Glamour: Marilyn wears an embroidered robe reading 'The Ambassador' at the Ambassador Hotel in New York City An unknown woman repeatedly curses at her: 'Leave Bobby alone, you tramp.' 'Ethel?' asks Marilyn. The line goes dead. Sid Skolsky is a journalist with an inside track on Hollywood and has been friends with Marilyn for decades. He calls to check on her and she starts in on her problems with the Kennedys. She's seeing one of them, she insists. Tonight. Later recordings from a secret surveillance microphone that has been hidden in her house reveal that a meeting did indeed take place. The equipment has been installed by a former vice detective named Fred Otash who makes his living as a 'fact verifier' for gossip magazines. On tape he has Lawford and Bobby deep in conflict with a highly emotional Marilyn, who's demanding an explanation as to why Kennedy was not going to marry her. According to Otash, it is 'a violent argument about their relationship and the commitment and promises Bobby made to her. She said she was passed around like a piece of meat.' Bobby, then U.S. attorney general, loses control of his tone of voice. He screeches that he's not leaving without finding what he came for – Marilyn's little red book where she kept all her notes about 'political things' she discussed with him and, before him, his brother. He yells at her: 'Where the f*** is it? We have to know. It's important to the family. We can make any arrangements you want, but we must find it.' Marilyn refuses to answer. Troubled: Marilyn Monroe on the set of Something's Got To Give in May 1962, a movie from which she was fired for lateness and drug use. She died two months later. Otash reports: 'She was screaming. Bobby gets the pillow and he muffles her on the bed to keep the neighbours from hearing. She finally quieted down and then he was looking to get out of there.' Left on her own, Marilyn lies in bed with her telephone. For the moment she's calmed herself with some pills, but later that evening she's on the phone and rambling about 'betrayals... men in high places... clandestine love affairs'. She tells one caller, 'I know a lot of secrets about the Kennedys. Dangerous ones.' To another she claims to have news that 'will one day shock the whole world'. Lawford rings. She was supposed to have dinner at his house tonight. As he speaks to her, he is alarmed by the drifting quality of her voice. He shouts at her, trying to draw her focus. Marilyn answers, 'Say goodbye to Pat [his wife], say goodbye to Jack and say goodbye to yourself, be...' Then silence. It is August 5, 1962, and Marilyn's housekeeper Eunice Murray wakes suddenly, fear lodged in the pit of her stomach. It is 3am and she is worried without knowing why. It could just be the stifling heat. She gets out of bed, fumbling for her pink slippers and matching dressing gown, opens her bedroom door and crosses the corridor to Marilyn's bedroom. The door is shut, but under it is wedged the cord of the telephone that Marilyn uses for the interminable calls she makes most nights. Lamplight seeps out from the crack under the door. She listens. The silence concerns her. No giggles. No breathy whispers. Something isn't right. Eunice tries the handle, but the door is locked. That's unexpected. Marilyn is fearful of locked doors. Her door is only locked when she's with a gentleman friend. Tonight she went to bed alone. Scene: Marilyn Monroe's bedroom from the exterior after she was found dead by her housekeeper and doctor Starting to panic, Eunice runs into the next room, grabs another phone and dials Dr Greenson. He lives nearby and had been at the house earlier. When he picks up, she blurts out: 'It's Marilyn. Her door is locked. I can't raise her.' He is immediately on his way. Eunice grabs a metal poker from the fireplace in the sitting room, goes out on to the lawn and stops in front of Marilyn's bedroom. The light is on but the curtains are drawn. One window is slightly ajar. Standing on her tiptoes, she pushes the poker through the crack and jabs at the top of the curtains, edging one aside along the rail, exposing an eerie scene. Marilyn is lying there on the bed on her back, her eyes shut, her lips slightly parted. Naked. The alabaster skin. The bleached blonde hair in loose curls around the famous face. The sheets are wrapped around her calves. Her hand still clutches the telephone, which hangs off the hook. She looks so peaceful. Has she overdosed again? Is she simply asleep? Or is she actually dead? A car comes screeching down the road and Dr Greenson runs across the lawn. He asks: 'Is she breathing? Has she moved? Can you see her?' He sees the poker, grabs it and smashes the bedroom window, then swings his leg over the windowsill and climbs in. He leans over Marilyn and presses gently on the side of her slim neck. Please, God, let there be a pulse. He presses harder. The flesh feels tepid, not as warm as he would like. Maybe there is something? There! Then he realises it's his own pounding heartbeat. 'We've lost her!' he cries out, his knees buckling beneath him. Tragic: Police remove Marilyn's body from her home in Los Angeles on a gurney on August 5, 1962 He unlocks the bedroom door from the inside to let in the weeping housekeeper, then he counts the pill bottles on the nightstand. Eight. Ten. Twelve. Fifteen. All opened. There's a trail of white pills scattered across the carpet, but a 50-capsule bottle of Nembutal is completely empty. The customary dose is one tablet a night. Is this what she wanted? Dr Greenson can't believe it. She was in a low mood when she called him yesterday evening, complaining about her personal life and that she couldn't sleep. But he's sure she wasn't suicidal. The front door slams. Running feet hammer across the terracotta tiles in the hall. Dr Engelberg, Marilyn's personal physician, who's also been rung by Eunice, demand: 'Where is she?' He bursts through the bedroom door. 'Is she breathing? Have you checked for a pulse? Are you sure she's not still alive?' 'She's gone,' replies Dr Greenson, with a slow shake of his head. Dr Engelberg examines the body with his stethoscope, then agrees: 'There's no sign of foul play, no blood or wound, but she is most certainly gone.' He sighs and picks up the empty bottle of Nembutal and says: 'I gave her that prescription only three days ago and only after she begged me.' Dr Greenson interjects crossly. 'I thought we'd agreed we were weaning her off medication. No more drugs.' Star: A portrait shot in December 1961 – just a year before her death – shows the actress looking pensive Dr Engelberg replies: 'We had and I'd got her usage right down. Until her last appointment, when she wouldn't let me leave without prescribing 50 capsules.' He scans the labels of bottles. He whispers: 'Chloral hydrate. Jesus, knockout drops. Where did she get 15 bottles of that? I'd never prescribe that. Mix it with alcohol and Nembutal and…' He looks down at Marilyn on the bed and shakes his head. 'I think we should cover her up, don't you? Or at least roll her on to her front? Give the place a little decorum.' They roll her over and cover her and call the police. 'Marilyn Monroe has died. She's committed suicide.' It's 4.15am and Sergeant Jack Clemmons of the Los Angeles Police Department presumes it is a hoax. He asks: 'Who did you say was calling?' 'I'm Dr Hyman Engelberg, her physician. She's committed suicide.' Clemmons says: 'I'll come right away,' but it is almost 5am when he arrives. He's radioed for back-up. He hopes they won't be long. It's never pleasant attending a suicide. He knocks on the front door but it takes a while for someone to answer. He can hear whispering and shuffling sounds from inside. Finally, a woman answers. 'I am Marilyn Monroe's housekeeper,' she tells him. 'Or I was... She's committed suicide.' Eunice Murray takes him to the bedroom where Dr Greenson sits with his head in his hands and Dr Engelberg paces the carpet. There are pills and handbags and clothes on the floor, which is covered with shattered glass. The officer looks down at Marilyn's body, covered in a sheet. She is lying on her front. One arm hangs off the bed, her hand in a claw. Her fingernails are bitten to the quick. Beauty: Marilyn Monroe pictured at the Ambassador Hotel on March 24, 1955 Clemmons furrows his brow. This isn't right. Marilyn's legs are perfectly straight. Her face is buried in a pillow. He'd like to get a look at her mouth, check for signs of foam or vomit. Suicides are usually messier than this. The normal signs of distress or struggle are not present. Clemmons pulls back the sheet. There are the distinctive blonde curls, the smooth curves of her shoulders, the luminous white skin of her back. It feels almost indecent to carry on. He covers her quickly. There's a knock at the front door and standing on the step is a young man dressed in workman's dungarees. He's Mrs Murray's son-in-law and she's called him to fix the window that Dr Greenson smashed to get in. As the handyman steps inside he tells the sergeant there are newsmen outside the house. Twenty or 30 of them. The secret is out. Hollywood's screen goddess is dead. Clemmons's radio call for back-up was overheard and newspaper editors are waking reporters, demanding they get over to the house. News trucks are soon parking up along the road. Inside the house, the police set up an office in the kitchen as more officers join the investigation. A police photographer documents Marilyn's bedroom. A gossip columnist manages to get in and take photos of Marilyn on the bed. Pretending to be from the coroner's office, he's only removed when the real team arrives. Everyone wants a glimpse. Of what? The body? A curl of blonde hair hanging off the back of the stretcher? The mortuary director crosses Marilyn's arms over her chest and covers her in a blanket before she is lifted on to a gurney. Dr Engelberg accompanies the sombre procession to the van waiting outside. 'Oh, dear, dear Marilyn,' he sighs as the van disappears through the gate to the explosion of a thousand flashbulbs. In an interview Marilyn gave eight years earlier, she had said, 'I knew I was the kind of girl they found dead with an empty bottle of sleeping pills in her hand.' It seemed her prediction had come eerily, horribly true. Icon: Marilyn Monroe emerges from a car in a strapless white gown and white fur coat at the premier of 'There's No Business Like Show Business' Or had it? Was it an accidental overdose? Or was it deliberate, making it suicide? Was it, perhaps, murder? The coroner who first pronounces on the case gives a 'presumptive opinion' that 'death was due to an overdose of some drug'. He assigns the matter to a 'suicide team'. But homicide detective Jack Clemmons believes what he had witnessed was 'the most obviously staged death scene I had ever seen. The pill bottles on her table had been arranged in neat order and the body was deliberately positioned.' The actions of others raise questions, such as Lawford's quickly delivered instruction to investigator Fred Otash to 'do anything to remove anything incriminating' at Marilyn's house that could connect her to Jack and Bobby Kennedy. During an interview with the BBC, Mrs Murray says words to the effect of, 'Oh, why do I have to keep covering this up?' The interviewer asks: 'Covering what up, Mrs Murray?' 'Well of course Bobby Kennedy was there,' she replies. There is also something odd about the autopsy, when a junior medical examiner, Dr Thomas Noguchi, is appointed rather than the more experienced chief examiner. He detects neither needle marks, indicating a drug injection, nor signs of physical violence. The autopsy confirms blood toxic with barbiturates and a stomach empty of food particles, even the yellow dye that coats Nembutal capsules. But he never performs the full range of organ tests. He admits later: 'I didn't follow through as I should have.' John Miner, who heads the medical-legal section in the LA District Attorney's Office, is convinced that someone administered an enema to Marilyn containing the lethal combination of Nembutal and the sedative chloral hydrate. He considers Dr Greenson an unofficial 'suspect'. As questions like these remain unanswered, one wonders if Marilyn Monroe will ever rest in peace. For her funeral, her make-up artist Whitey Snyder performs his final duty. He applies eyeliner. Blush to her cheeks. A red lip. He dresses her in an aqua-blue dress by Italian designer Emilio Pucci. But her body doesn't look right. Too flat. Marilyn without a bust – she'd have freaked, Snyder thinks, and adds bits of cushions and newspaper to give her the perfect shape. © James Patterson, 2025 Adapted from The Last Days Of Marilyn Monroe by James Patterson and Imogen Edwards-Jones (Century,), to be published July 3
Daily Mail
29-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
'I know a lot of dangerous secrets about the Kennedys. I will shock the world': Marilyn Monroe's ominous words before she was found naked and dead in bed... so was she murdered to silence her?
My god what a beautiful woman, thinks jazz singer and pianist Buddy Greco. He's sitting outside Frank Sinatra's bungalow in Lake Tahoe when a limousine pulls up and 'this gorgeous woman in dark glasses steps out'. It's Marilyn Monroe. She greets him with a big hug around the neck. He finds her 'smart, funny, intelligent, if fragile'. Along with English actor Peter Lawford and his wife Pat, they are guests of Sinatra for the weekend. Also invited are a number of Sinatra's other Hollywood friends and Mafia associates like Sam Giancana. Sinatra and the Lawfords are aware of what's been going on with Marilyn and the Kennedys – used and dumped by Jack and Bobby – and are hoping that getting her out of Los Angeles will distract her.
CBS News
20-06-2025
- CBS News
50 years later, John Drummond looks back on the murder of Chicago Outfit honcho Sam Giancana
Thursday marks 50 years since the murder of in infamous Chicago mob boss Sam Giancana. Giancana, known as "Momo," was 67 when he was murdered at his home in Oak Park, Illinois. As recounted by the Mob Museum, Giancana was cooking sausage when he was shot six times in the head — the first time from behind. A then-45-year-old reporter for Channel 2 News whose name you are sure to know remembers it all. John "Bulldog" Drummond, now 95, tenaciously found stories as a reporter — and now he stubbornly saves them in retirement. At home, Drummond has an immense file of TV scripts, court documents, and newspaper clippings on the many stories he covered over the years. "I have to go through and throw some of them out," Drummond said as he rifled through some vintage newspaper clippings. Drummond joined Channel 2 in 1969, and soon became famous for his stories on crooks, capers, and colorful characters — and in particular on organized crime and the Chicago mob. He retired as a staff reporter in 1997, Drummond regularly returned to the air on Channel 2 when the mob and organized crime were in the news. And he's still the reporter we turn to when it's time to revisit a story like that of Giancana. "Of all the mob bosses that I ever saw, he was more surly," Drummond said. Giancana was the notorious boss of the Chicago Outfit for 1957 to 1966 — only nine years, but an eventful nine years. As recalled by the Mob Museum, Outfit boss Tony "Joe Batters" Accardo stepped aside to make way for Giancana in 1957, after Giancana consolidated the city's illegal lottery rackets by violent means. In his first year as head of the Chicago Outfit, Giancana was the Outfit's representative in the national summit of Mafia bosses in Apalachin, New York, the Mob Museum recounted. The CIA even reportedly contacted Giancana and mob boss Santo Trafficante Jr. in a plot to assassinate Cuban leader Fidel Castro, the Mob Museum recalled. When Giancana refused to testify before a grand jury in 1965 and was sent to Cook County Jail for a year, he had a television and refrigerator in his cell, archive CBS reports noted. Sam Giancana CBS Giancana lost control of the Outfit the following year. "A lot of people didn't like the way Giancana was running things anyway," Drummond said "He's got too much ink, too much publicity running around with Hollywood stars and things of that nature — flamboyant lifestyle." Giancana went off to Mexico. But in 1974, authorities there seized him in his bathrobe and slippers and had him deported back to the U.S., as Chris Wallace reported for Channel 2 News in 1975. Giancana returned to Chicago and appeared before another grand jury. Drummond was present for Giancana's last court appearance. But he was on vacation on June 19, 1975, when the big mob news broke in Oak Park. "Sam Giancana had been murdered in the basement of his house — shot about six times with a .22-caliber pistol," said Drummond. As Bill Kurtis intoned from the Channel 2 anchor desk at the time: "A gangland hit? Perhaps. Police aren't sure yet. But it is likely he knew his killer." Drummond covered Giancana's funeral at the Montclare Funeral Home on Chicago's Northwest Side. Fifty years later, Drummond remembers all the details like he is reporting them for the first time. Drummond believes the theory that Giancana's bodyguard and driver pulled the trigger. "Nobody was ever charged — so theoretically, it's a mystery," Drummond said. "Who killed Sam?" It's a tough question that a tenacious reporter will keep asking.
