The infamous American gangster financed the charitable organization that provided three daily meals to numerous jobless individuals, without inquiring into their circumstances.
In November 1930, Chicago was gripped by a particularly harsh and desolate winter. As the U.S. plunged deeper into the Great Depression, thousands of the Windy City’s unemployed citizens found themselves huddled daily, forming a winding queue outside a recently established soup kitchen. With hands tucked into overcoat pockets as devoid of warmth as their stomachs were of food, these desperate individuals shuffled forward, drawn by a large banner proclaiming “Free Soup Coffee & Doughnuts for the Unemployed.”
Surprisingly, the generous benefactor offering this lifeline was Al Capone, more infamously known as “Public Enemy Number One.”
Indeed, Capone was an improbable choice for a humanitarian. Chicago’s most notorious gangster had amassed his multi-million-dollar empire—spanning bootlegging, prostitution, and gambling—through a brutal foundation of extortion, bribery, and murder. This reign of terror notoriously peaked with the 1929 St. Valentine’s Day Massacre, where he orchestrated the assassination of seven rivals.
Yet, in the year following the devastating Stock Market Crash of 1929, many Chicagoans faced far more immediate worries than the machinations of organized crime. Across America, lengthy queues had become an unsettlingly common sight on sidewalks, whether nervous investors were conducting runs on banks or the jobless awaited their desperately needed free meals.
By early November 1930, over 75,000 unemployed residents in Chicago had queued up simply to register their names. Almost a third of these required immediate assistance. The Chicago Tribune reported a surprising observation: “The Madison Street hobo type was conspicuously absent from these lines of men,” noting instead that many of those seeking aid were remarkably well-dressed, indicating a broader societal impact of the crisis.
Just a week later, the Chicago Tribune broke the astonishing news: the enigmatic benefactor who had leased a storefront at 935 South State Street and established the soup kitchen was none other than the city’s infamous monarch of alcohol, beer, and vice. Capone’s soup kitchen provided breakfast, lunch, and dinner, serving an average of 2,200 Chicagoans daily.
According to a Capone associate quoted in a Chicago newspaper, “He couldn’t stand it to see those poor devils starving, and nobody else seemed to be doing much, so the big boy decided to do it himself.” Inside the bustling soup kitchen, women in pristine white aprons served with smiles: coffee and sweet rolls for breakfast, hearty soup and bread for lunch, and more soup, coffee, and bread for dinner. Crucially, second helpings were never refused. No inquiries were made about personal circumstances, and no one was required to prove their destitution or eligibility.
For Thanksgiving in 1930, Capone’s soup kitchen extended its generosity, providing holiday meals to a remarkable 5,000 Chicagoans. It was reported that Capone had initially intended to offer a traditional Thanksgiving feast, complete with turkey, until news reached him of a local heist involving 1,000 turkeys. Even though “Scarface” had no involvement in the theft, he worried he would be implicated in the caper and, at the last minute, altered the menu from the planned turkey and cranberry sauce to beef stew.
Al Capone’s soup kitchen significantly enhanced his “Robin Hood” image among certain Americans who viewed him as a champion of the common person. These supporters frequently cited newspaper accounts detailing his charitable handouts to widows and orphans. While the government prohibited access to beer and alcohol during Prohibition, Capone ensured its delivery. Similarly, when the authorities struggled to provide sustenance during times of hardship, the notorious crime boss stepped in to offer food. For many grappling with the moral dilemma of accepting aid from a gangster, the immediate need for food outweighed ethical reservations. As the Bismarck Tribune succinctly put it, “a hungry man is just as glad to get soup and coffee from Al Capone as from anyone else.”
In Harper’s Magazine, Mary Borden characterized Capone as “an ambidextrous giant who kills with one hand and feeds with the other.” She highlighted the striking irony that the queue of unemployed individuals seeking assistance from Chicago’s most notorious criminal frequently extended beyond the very police headquarters containing evidence of the violent crimes orchestrated under Capone’s command.
Daily operations at the soup kitchen involved serving 350 loaves of bread, 100 dozen rolls, 50 pounds of sugar, and 30 pounds of coffee, incurring a daily expense of $300. This amount was well within Capone’s means; coincidentally, on the very day accounts of his soup kitchen emerged, his bookkeeper Fred Ries testified in court that his most profitable gambling establishments generated over $25,000 in monthly profits.
Despite being among America’s wealthiest individuals, Capone might not have personally funded the soup kitchen at all, instead leveraging his criminal methods to stock the charitable operation by extorting and bribing businesses into donating supplies. For instance, during the 1932 trial of Capone’s associate Daniel Serritella, it came to light that ducks intended for Serritella’s holiday drive, donated by a chain store, were instead diverted and served at Capone’s soup kitchen.
While Capone himself was never observed at the soup kitchen by the press, newspapers eagerly consumed and disseminated the story of his charitable efforts. However, some publications, like the Daily Independent of Murphysboro, Illinois, voiced strong disapproval of the praise heaped upon the soup kitchen’s proprietor. Its editorial declared, “If anything were needed to make the farce of Gangland complete, it is the Al Capone soup kitchen.” The editorial further cautioned, “It would be rather terrifying to see Capone run for mayor of Chicago. We are afraid he would get a tremendous vote. It is even conceivable that he might be elected after a few more stunts like his soup kitchens.”
Ultimately, Capone’s future would involve incarceration, not a political career. Despite the positive public relations, no amount of acclaim could shield Capone from the verdict of a jury, which convicted him of income-tax evasion in November 1931.
