Before Johnny Torrio and Al Capone reigned in blood over the streets of Chicago, there was Salvatore Cardinella. Known among his peers as Il Diavolo—the Devil—Cardinella built a criminal empire in Little Italy, ruling through fear and violence. Yet, for all the brutality of his reign, it is what happened after his death that secured his place in one of the most bizarre chapters of gangland Chicago history.
By 1920, the Cardinella gang was at the height of its power. Practicing the Black Hand style of extortion, they preyed on local merchants, demanding payment under threat of deadly retaliation. Those who refused quickly regretted it. Bombings were their preferred method of enforcement, resulting in at least 20 known deaths and hundreds of injuries over several years. The gang also targeted speakeasies, brothels, and illegal gambling halls, earning them no goodwill among rival criminals.
But as all empires rise, so too must they fall, and Cardinella’s was no exception. In early 1920, one of his chief lieutenants, Nicholas “The Choir Boy” Viana, was arrested. Suspected in at least 15 murders, Viana faced overwhelming evidence against him. Prosecutors quickly built their case, and Cardinella knew his underling would turn informant to save himself from the gallows. His instincts were correct, Viana cooperated. But it was all in vain. He was sentenced to hang on December 10, 1920.
With Viana’s execution imminent, Cardinella knew it was only a matter of time before the law came for him. Instead of fleeing—a move that would have almost certainly saved him, as interstate extradition was still uncommon—he remained in Chicago and devised an audacious plan to cheat death itself.
On the morning of December 10, as Viana was led to the gallows, Cardinella set his plan into motion. He had arranged for an ambulance, staffed with his own handpicked doctors, to wait outside the jail and claim the body. After Viana was hanged, his men swiftly loaded him into the ambulance and rushed him to a rented room just blocks away. There, the doctors administered CPR and injected powerful stimulants, desperately working to revive him. Then, after several agonizing minutes, the impossible happened—Viana’s lifeless body jerked upright, gasping for air. They had successfully brought him back from the dead.
As the confused Viana looked around the room, one face was very familiar—that of Salvatore Cardinella. It is unknown if any words passed between them, only that Cardinella put a bullet in Viana’s brain, and there was no coming back from that.
Though it reads as one of the most brutal revenge stories ever recorded, that was not exactly his intent. What Cardinella had done was proof in concept that, provided a man’s neck was not broken by the gallows, he could, in fact, be resuscitated. Good news for a man who would soon be sitting on death row himself.
It wasn’t long before the law caught up with him. Cardinella was arrested and put on trial for multiple murders, including the high-profile killing of Chicago jeweler Andrew Bowman. His case dragged on, ultimately reaching the Illinois Supreme Court, but the verdict remained unchanged and he was sentenced to death. His execution was set for April 15, 1921.
Determined to survive the noose, Cardinella spent his final weeks in a self-imposed hunger strike—though, in hindsight, this may have been a deliberate attempt to lose weight and reduce the risk of a broken neck. On the day of his execution, he refused to leave his cell, breaking down in hysteria. Guards were forced to strap him to a chair, and, in an unprecedented move, he was carried to the gallows seated. If this was part of his plan, it was a clever one. A seated position meant a shorter drop, which decreased the likelihood of a fatal neck snap—exactly what he needed for his resurrection scheme to work.
As planned, Cardinella’s men were waiting outside with a specially outfitted hearse, complete with an oxygen tank, heated bed, and an array of syringes. But something about their behavior aroused the suspicion of the deputy warden, who delayed the release of the body while he contacted the police. By the time Cardinella’s gang finally secured his corpse and began their resuscitation efforts, they were intercepted by authorities. Though there was no legal precedent to charge them with a crime, police detained them long enough to further delay their work. In the end, the delay proved fatal. By the time they were allowed to leave, more than an hour had passed—too long for even the most desperate revival attempt.
The Devil of Little Italy was dead. And this time, there would be no coming back.
Jason Roberts is a Seattle-based author noted for his acclaimed western horror series The Dead Wind Trilogy as well as other works of cosmic horror infused with historical fiction. His web-based series, Dark Distractions examines paranormal mysteries, unexplained phenomena, and all things strange.
