Nelson Johnson - Boardwalk Empire - The Birth, High Times, and Corruption of Atlantic City

Governor Fort’s commission never got around to issuing its final report until late December. By that time, the furor had subsided and the report’s recommendations were forgotten, as were the governor’s complaints. The notoriety didn’t hurt any, and by the following summer it was business as usual.

The more popular Atlantic City became, the greater was the need for cooperation between the resort’s businessmen and politicians. Everyone in town lived off the profits from the three months of summer. If the season was slow, it could mean a long, cold winter. Without the blessing of the community, the racketeers who provided the “booze, broads, and gambling” would have had a tenuous existence. Atlantic City’s residents understood the role of the local vice industry and appreciated the need for protecting it from interference by law enforcement officials. From the beginning, the police were instructed to turn their heads. Whatever the attraction, if it brought visitors to town and helped to generate a few dollars for the local economy without hurting anyone, then it was legal by Atlantic City’s standards.

As the resort’s economy matured, the vice industry’s relationship with the local government became more structured. The politicians saw the easy money being made by the racketeers and demanded a piece of the action. Prior to the beginning of the 20th century, an informal partnership between the politicians and racketeers ran the town with broad-based consent of the community. Day-to-day decisions were made by a three-man coalition consisting of County Clerk Louis Scott, Congressman John Gardner, and County Sheriff Smith Johnson. Scott was the unofficial leader of the threesome. His most trusted lieutenant and protégé was a young hotelier, Louis Kuehnle.

Born on Christmas Day 1857, Louis Kuehnle was tall and broad-shouldered. He had a ruddy complexion, dark brown eyes, and a bald head nearly always covered with a hat. Kuehnle smoked big cigars, wore dapper clothes, and enjoyed a good time with the boys. He also had a fondness for dogs. His terrier, “Sparkey,” was his constant companion, following him around town for nearly 15 years. Sparkey went everywhere with his master, including city council meetings, restaurants, and church. Kuehnle’s parents were German immigrants from New York, where his father was renowned as a chef. The Kuehnles were attracted by Atlantic City’s growing tourist economy.

Kuehnle’s father had acquired a small fortune working in New York and quickly made a successful transition from chef to hotel owner. He purchased a large hotel in the mainland community of Egg Harbor City, the New York Hotel, and another in Atlantic City known as Kuehnle’s Hotel. The latter was built shortly after Richards’ second railroad and was located in a prime spot on the north side of Atlantic City near the railroad station. It was a typical “hotel,” a large boardinghouse, for its day, with a wraparound porch highlighted by Victorian gingerbread and wicker furniture. Kuehnle’s Hotel was a popular meeting place year-round for local residents.

By age 18, Louis Kuehnle took over the management of the hotel in Atlantic City. In a short time, Kuehnle was running the hotel on his own, looking after every detail and overseeing everything from changing sheets and cleaning the barroom to waiting on guests in the dining room. Kuehnle was a typical resort hotelier and enjoyed playing the role of host. Through the management of his family’s hotel Kuehnle became well known by everyone in town. He was free with his money; he entertained generously and never denied a request for help from the resort’s poor. Kuehnle joined the Atlantic City Yacht Club and became active in its affairs, serving as chairman. He earned the unofficial rank of “Commodore,” a moniker that stayed with him the remainder of his life. In time, the entire town referred to him only as “the Commodore.” During the next 20 years, the Commodore created a loyal crew of supporters by doing favors and offering his hotel as a meeting place for anyone who needed it.

Kuehnle’s Hotel became known by both politicians and the general public alike as “the Corner.” The ruling coalition of Scott, Gardner, and Johnson met regularly at the Corner to plan their strategy and to hear requests from their constituents. From the porch of Kuehnle’s Hotel, these three power brokers dispensed patronage and favors. In time, people seeking political favors had to first clear their petitions with Kuehnle who had the ear of Scott and his partners. Trusted implicitly by the members of this ruling coalition, Kuehnle’s voice soon became a potent factor in political decisions. At the time of Scott’s death in 1900, his two cohorts had neither the youth nor desire to assume control and Kuehnle became the unchallenged leader. In a short time after Scott’s death, the Commodore was Boss and nothing was done without his okay; every candidate, employee, city contract, and mercantile license required his nod of approval.

When things got hot everyone turned to the Commodore. The scorching attacks of Philadelphia’s newspapers and the threats made by reform governors caused anxious moments nearly every summer. The Corner was the scene of many late night meetings with Kuehnle calming the politicians’ fears by reminding them that publicity of any kind was good for business. One popular story has it that the Commodore assured his lieutenants and the local merchants that if the governor ever did send down the militia, then Kuehnle would have the local whores greet them at the train station.

Kuehnle’s closest ally was Smith Johnson, who served as sheriff every other three years from 1890 to 1908. State law prohibited a sheriff from succeeding himself and Johnson was forced to alternate from sheriff to deputy sheriff. When his first term for office was up, Johnson nominated his loyal deputy, Sam Kirby, to run for sheriff. Upon his election, Kirby appointed Johnson his deputy and so on and so on for 20 years. As sheriff, Johnson doled out political patronage and controlled the fees collected by his office. There were charges for such things as serving summonses, conducting real estate foreclosure sales, executing on civil judgments, and housing inmates in the county jail. These fees totaled $50,000 annually at a time when a round-trip excursion ticket from Philadelphia cost $1. The fees were the personal income of the sheriff and he answered to no one except his political allies. Johnson’s fees together with the protection money paid by the gambling rooms, brothels, and saloons financed Kuehnle’s organization. When the fee system was abolished by state government and the sheriff limited to an annual salary of $3,500, the Commodore squeezed the racketeers harder, making protection money from the vice industry the life blood of the local Republican Party.

The source of Kuehnle’s power included more than protection money. The Commodore was embraced by the business community, which supported his efforts to build up the resort. Kuehnle’s favorite slogans were “A bigger and better Atlantic City,” and “Boost, don’t knock.” He succeeded in identifying the local Republican Party with the welfare of the community. Any criticism of the Commodore’s regime became an attack on the city. Hoteliers and Boardwalk merchants would shudder at reformers complaining of corruption. “It will hurt the town,” they said, “don’t spoil the season.” Success of “the season” was everything to local residents. With tourism the only industry in town, the months of June, July, and August were crucial. Nothing could interfere with the visitors’ happiness and the last thing merchants needed was some reformer tampering with things.

The Commodore understood that Atlantic City’s business owners would gladly sacrifice honest government for a profitable summer and he gave them what they wanted. Kuehnle protected the rackets from prosecution and worked with the tourist industry to ensure its success. In exchange, the community let him call the shots.