The Milwaukee Police Station Bomb of 1917

By Robert Tanzilo

On a chilly day in September, the patriotic, pro-Protestant preaching of an Italian immigrant pastor, August Giuliani, ignited a riot in Milwaukee's small Italian enclave of Bay View that injured two policemen and killed two rioters. Two months later, someone placed a bomb in Giuliani's Third Ward church in an apparent act of retaliation, and a parishioner carried the explosive to Central Police Station, where it detonated, killing nine policemen and a civilian. Within a week, the trial of the Bay View Italians began in a city inflamed with fear, distrust and vengeance. The national buzz attracted big names to the case, including attorney Clarence Darrow and radical heroine Emma Goldman. Join Robert Tanzilo as he carefully navigates the minefield of racial, political and religious tension that tore apart Milwaukee's Italian community in 1917.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The History Press
• Release date: Sep 27, 2010
• ISBN: 9781614232780

Robert Tanzilo

Robert Tanzilo is managing editor at OnMilwaukee.com, a daily online city magazine. Born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, he now lives in Milwaukee. He is the author of four previous books, including two published by The History Press.

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Published by The History Press

Charleston, SC 29403

www.historypress.net

Copyright © 2010 by Robert Tanzilo

All rights reserved

Front cover collage from the Milwaukee Sentinel, December 1, 1917.

All images are from the author’s collection unless otherwise noted.

This book was published in somewhat different form as Milwaukee 1917: Uno Scontro tra Italoamericani in 2006 in Italy by Editoriale Umbra.

e-book edition 2012

ISBN 978.1.61423.278.0

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Tanzilo, Robert, 1966-

The Milwaukee police station bombing of 1917 / Robert Tanzilo.

p. cm.

Inclues bibliographical references and index.

print edition ISBN 978-1-60949-067-6 1.

Riots--Wisconsin--Milwaukee--History--20th century. 2. Social conflict--Wisconsin--Milwaukee--History--20th century. 3. Bombings--Wisconsin--Milwaukee--History--20th century. 4. Giuliani, August. 5. Evangelical Church--Clergy--Biography. 6. Italian Americans--Wisconsin--Milwaukee--Social conditions--20th century. 7. Trials (Riots)--Wisconsin--Milwaukee--History--20th century. 8. Bay View (Milwaukee, Wis.)--History--20th century. 9. Milwaukee (Wis.)--History--20th century. 10. World War, 1914-1918--Social aspects--Wisconsin--Milwaukee. I. Title.

HV6483.M55T36 2010

363.32’3097759509041--dc22

2010031977

Notice: The information in this book is true and complete to the best of our knowledge. It is offered without guarantee on the part of the author or The History Press. The author and The History Press disclaim all liability in connection with the use of this book.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without prior written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

For Kathy, Luca and Valentina

CONTENTS

Preface

Acknowledgements

The Missionaries

Bay View and I Dilettanti Filodrammatici del Circolo Studi Sociali

Riot

The Aftermath

Bomb!

The Trial and Appeal

Milwaukee after the Bomb

Giuliani and His Church

Epilogue

Notes

Bibliography

About the Author

PREFACE

On a chilly day in early September 1917, Italian immigrant pastor August Giuliani led a band of Protestant evangelists from Milwaukee’s heavily Italian Third Ward on a jaunt to the smaller Italian enclave of Bay View on the city’s near south side.

Giuliani, a former priest, had hopped the Delaware Avenue streetcar with some of his flock on the previous two Sundays, too, setting up on the corner of Bishop and Potter Streets with an organist and two trumpeters. There, they sang patriotic songs and encouraged those in the neighborhood to do their duty and support the American war effort.

Each time, Giuliani met with resistance from people he deemed antiwar anarchists. But Giuliani was unwelcome, it was said in the neighborhood, not because he preached patriotism but because he defamed Catholicism in his attempts to convert the Italians.

So, after being shouted down twice, Giuliani approached the authorities, and four policemen were on hand for his third meeting at Bishop and Potter on that Sunday, September 9, 1917. The tune of Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean was struck up, and the faithful began to sing. A crowd gathered, and Giuliani’s group was jeered.

When the police approached the hecklers, guns were drawn and shots began to whiz and whirr through the intersection as the crowds dispersed. When the smoke cleared, two policemen were hurt, two Bay View Italians were mortally wounded and two more were injured. One was shot in the back.

Two months later, a bomb—linked to the Bay View affair by the pastor, police and the newspapers—was found at Giuliani’s Third Ward church. It was carried to the central police station by a parishioner, where it exploded, killing nine policemen and a civilian. The tragedy marked the largest loss of police life in a single incident in the United States until September 11, 2001.

Not a week later, the trial of the Bay View Italians began in a city inflamed with fear, distrust and vengeance. Could they receive a fair trial in this atmosphere? Soon, nationally recognized figures like attorney Clarence Darrow and radical heroine Emma Goldman would become involved in the Milwaukee affair.

How did this midwestern city end up in such a situation? Was Milwaukee a hotbed of anarchist activity? What effect would these events have beyond Milwaukee?

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank the following: Kathy McCann, more than anyone else, for listening to this story for going on two decades now; Mom and Dad; the late John D. Anello, Milwaukee Police Captain Stephen Basting and the Milwaukee Police Historical Society; Andrea Biscaro for his research and his friendship; Sarah Blair at United Theological Seminary Library; Carol Bonomo Albright at Italian Americana; Kimberly Jacobsen Butler at North Central College’s Oesterle Library; Comune di Calvene; Dominic Candeloro for encouragement; Mario Carini and the Italian Community Center of Milwaukee; Francesco Carri in Taranto; Tim Cuprisin; James P. Danky and Harry Miller at the Wisconsin Historical Society; Al Denurra; Vince Eller at Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary; my brothers in the Italian American Giuseppe Garibaldi Society of Bay View; the staff at the Emma Goldman Papers at Berkeley; Michael Gordon; Jennifer Guglielmo; John Gurda; Marty Hintz for unwittingly hooking me up; Ben Gibson and the staff at The History Press; Jay Hyland at Jewish Museum Milwaukee; Dave Luhrssen; Katherine Nardini for her reminiscences and photographs and her kindness; Daniel Necas at the Immigration History Research Center; Comune di Nervesa; my friends at OnMilwaukee.com; Reverend Andy Oren; Vincenzo Pacelli and Francesca Piermartini in Vignanello; Nunzio Pernicone; Salvatore Salerno; the late A. David Schwartz, who told me if I wrote this book, he’d publish it—but, alas, I took too long; Mark Shenise at General Commission on Archives and History of the United Methodist Church; Alberto Sorbini, Dott.ssa Catia Monacelli and everyone at Editoriale Umbria and il Museo dell’Emigrazione Pietro Conti in Gualdo Tadino (PG); Dean Strang; Bob Teske, Amanda Wynne and Steve Daly at the Milwaukee County Historical Society; the late dean of Italian American studies Rudy Vecoli, who was always encouraging, interested and ready with suggestions and help; and Christina Ziino and Joe Ziino Sr. As in any work that requires copious research, many helped me uncover relevant and useful information. If I have neglected to include anyone, I beg forgiveness.

Special thanks to Ernesto Milani, whose translation made the Italian edition of this book a reality. His advice, suggestions, unending curiosity, encouragement and amicizia have enriched this and other projects on which we have collaborated and I hope more will follow.

Portions of this work appeared, in altered and abridged form, in an article published in Italian Americana 23, no. 2, Summer 2005.

THE MISSIONARIES

From Italy’s arrogant priesthood,

From the darkness of guilt and sin

Into the light of Christ’s redemption

Into glad fellowship with him.

Came missionary Giuliani

To Milwaukee’s teeming domain,

Serving our Italian Mission

His countryman for Christ to gain.

Through toil and much persecution,

He labors by day and by night

Calling, teaching, cheering and guiding

Souls from lostness, into light.

So pray for our own Giuliani

And pray for his devoted wife

Who together earnestly labor

Winning souls to eternal life.

—by Mrs. Emma F. Divan¹

The Reverend August Giuliani did not look like most other Italian immigrants living in Milwaukee’s Third Ward. Indeed, he was not one of them. His light brown hair, blue eyes and fair complexion² betrayed his northern Italian stock to the Third Ward Italians, most of whom hailed from a few small towns in Sicily and the southern provinces of the boot. But what really set the five-foot, six-inch-tall Giuliani at odds with the neighbors of his church was his Methodist evangelical work in the quarter, which did little to endear him to the fervently Roman Catholic southerners. His relationship with the central and northern Italians in enclave at Bay View, on the city’s south side, would prove equally tumultuous.

Not long after his arrival in Milwaukee in 1911, Giuliani became a controversial figure. The compact pastor was worshipped by his followers and despised by his detractors. Many in the neighborhood were puzzled, others amused, at the sight of his street corner sermons, which featured patriotic songs accompanied by a portable organ and a pair of cornetists.

Giuliani had friends in high places in Milwaukee, but those ties did not prevent trouble from sticking to him like glue. While few could fault his unwavering dedication to his flock, many in the Third Ward had nagging doubts about his motives. And that doubt lingers even today in Milwaukee’s Italian community.

Agostino Antonio Fulvio Giuliani was born on January 31, 1881, in Vignanello, a small town in Italy’s Lazio region, northwest of Rome. The fifth and last child of Serafino Giuliani and Emma Sforza, only Agostino and his elder sister, Giuseppa, would survive beyond the age of five. His father was born in 1827 in Calderara di Reno in the Province of Bologna and had reportedly served as a colonel in the Papal Army, which may have brought him to Vignanello, where he worked as a grocer by the time his son was born. The elder Giuliani, fifty-three at the time of Agostino’s birth, died when his son was nine years old. His mother, Emma Sforza, was born in Magliano in Sabina, not far from Vignanello, bearing the name of a noble Milanese family, but whether she was related to that distinguished line is unknown. However, the Ruspoli family, which held sway over the town and to this day owns the castle that dominates the landscape, was descended from Conte Sforza Marescotti, who married Ortensia Farnese.³ Eleven years after Serafino’s death, Emma married Angelo Costantini, a marriage that produced no children. She died in 1925.

A former Catholic priest, August Giuliani arrived in Milwaukee at the start of 1911, full of evangelical zeal, ready to set to work alongside Katherine Eyerick converting the Italian Catholics in Milwaukee to Methodism.

The young Giuliani was educated in monasteries and public schools in Florence and Rome from the age of twelve, and it also was rumored that, as a boy, Giuliani was a classmate of Benito Mussolini, but this has not been verified. He was a student at the Collegio Internazionale S. Alberto in Rome in 1902 and 1903 and uttered his vows in 1902.⁴ He received a subdeaconate in 1902, a deaconate the following year and was ordained a priest amid Borromini’s ornate décor in S. Giovanni Laterano by Cardinal Pietro Respighi on September 20, 1903. The following year, he was honored with an invitation to deliver a sermon during a celebration of the dogma of the Immaculate Conception, and on that occasion, he received a special blessing from Pope Leo XIII.⁵

In a brief biography penned for the Evangelical Missionary World, Milwaukee’s Bishop S.P. Spreng claimed that Giuliani was ordained in the Vatican by an uncle who was the Vicar of the Pope, adding that for several generations the family has been prominent in Roman Catholic circles, holding positions as bishops, archbishops and cardinals.⁶

Giuliani was assigned to the parish of Taranto in southern Italy in 1905, where he served as a hospital chaplain and as a member of the board of clerical examiners and joined the Carmelite Order (electus est 1905; confirmatus est 1909).⁷ He also served as secretary to the bishop, was a teacher in the seminary and was named superiore of the Carmelite friars in the city.⁸

Apparently making his way in the Roman Catholic Church in Italy, his subsequent departure in favor of Protestantism is puzzling. When questioned about his abandoning of the Catholic clergy, Giuliani replied only, I saw a bigger light.⁹

The popular and perhaps apocryphal story, which recurred during his life and was repeated in posthumous accounts, tells of a young Catholic priest who converted to Methodism after coming into contact with an American engineer from Philadelphia on his deathbed, after suffering a severe injury. Giuliani witnessed the scene, and the strong faith of the American—who gave Giuliani a Bible and urged him to read it¹⁰—struck a chord with the young priest, who made his formal conversion on November 13, 1909.¹¹ Later, in a court proceeding, Giuliani was asked if he was ousted from the Catholic Church, but he never answered,