"Spider" Bolduc brought his plastic fedora to stay in the "mood" while pushing gin in Lancaster streets.	Craig Reece, Jack Stalica, Roderick Lee and Michael Buccheri try to evade the cops and each other.

While the Boss is Away ...

Rolinda "Ma" Collinson arrived in her black 1929 Cadillac sedan, sporting a stylish fedora.  She had a done deal with the mayor of Chicago.  In return for peace on the streets of the city and a sizeable (but unspecified) donation, her syndicate would be "protected."  Barney Fife would put his bullet away.  T.J. Hooker would hang up his gun and drive at safe speeds.  "Ma" promised a kinder, gentler Gangsters and an era of peace -- one where a thousand points of lights did not refer to the light visible through the ventilated corpse of the last mobster to cross one's path.

Instead, "Ma" and her ladies, Ashley the "Angel" and Angela the "Red Rose," would establish a new underworld order.  Quiet whispers in dark corners and deals spoken in secret places would bring the other gangs in line until all would unite peacefully under Ma's velvet glove.

The first heat began peacefully enough.  Nary a gunshot was heard from the cops nor the mob families.  The ladies had their way as sweet-talking and romance, along with shrewd real estate deals, brought mob earnings to their peak.  The first heat was coming to a close.  The new world order would prevail!  Phil the "Steak" White reported, "I was vamped away."

Then Ashley, who history now remembers as "Nobody's Angel," boldly declared, "Purple, a bad strategy?!!  I beg to differ."  The newspaper headlines ran.  The mockery of the other crime families was clear.  This wasn't going to be an arrangement where all could share the power and the dough.  It was "my way or the highway."  The gloves were off.  The cement overshoes had been thrown down.  The buried heaters were found and reloaded.  The hit was ordered.  The Chicago typewriters rang out, "Rat-a-tat-tat-tat."  Blood flowed in the streets.  Purple blood.

Barney Fife was back on duty.  The bullet was back in the pocket.  "Crime would not be tolerated," the mayor declared (without more "donations," that is).  Dunkin' Donut's stock soared eight points on the news.

Three rivals established monopolies and prepared to fight for their dominions.  More real estate "barons" set themselves up than in any previous heat.  Ma's "Angel" held the purple joints.  Phillip Entwistle, "Iron" to those who've dared to cross him, held the blue gin joints.  On the wrong side of the tracks, Ben "the Roach" Gardner established his own purple monopoly while Tom the "Teflon Don" McCorry and Jeff "the Head" Hacker battled unsuccessfully for the blue joints.

Three heats later the stage was set for a (semi-)final showdown.  Would peace and feminine style once more prevail?  Would Ma's vision be realized?   A mere ninety frantic minutes later, the gunfire was over.  The air was still.  All "Angel" could say was, "Isn't this supposed to be a three-hour game?"  Our new Godfather, Bugs (aka John Elliott for reporters not afraid to print his real name) replied, "Dis ain't no game, Scha-weetheart."

The absence of longtime GM John Pack did not deter the dice-laden "Ma" Collinson who stepped in for the godfather to keep the show on the road.	"Ladykiller" Love sports brass knuckles and is packin' heat while "Shades" - his thug in waitin' awaits the bosses' orders. Gangsters players tend to do a little role playing too.