When Little Johnny S. Got “Religion”-Edward G. Robinson’s Brother Orchid
DVD Review
From The Pen Of Frank Jackman
Brother Orchid, starring Edward G. Robinson, Humphrey Bogart, Ann Sothern, 1940
A lot of guys around New York City, a lot of guys on the island of Manhattan especially couldn’t figure it out, tough guys all in their own little “grift,” con, shake-down world, couldn’t figure out the how and why when they heard Little Johnny S., Little Johnny without the “S” to guys in the know, yeah, just Little Johnny was enough to make a lot of guys, wise guys, yeah, all those wondering grifters, con-men, and leg-breakers sweat, wondered why he walked away from his kingpin crime boss job that was just minting dough after the hard times flaked away when the Great Depression hit and the, worse, worst of all, liquor became free and easy to get and that cut the tail out of that racket. Walked away mind you and not carried away by six guys and a hearse provided by some up and coming guy like Jack Buck who was his viper sidekick on the way up, walked away without “Uncle” laying a hand on him, getting him to sweat and fink to get out from under some heavy pall in Atlanta or the “rock,” nada, walked away, get this, so he could “spread the good word,” could do good deeds without reward, and really pay attention to this one, to get by with no dough, no dough of his own anyway. Yeah, Little Johnny S. sure got “religion,” sure bought that one-way ticket. And that, dear friends, is the central theme behind the film under review, Brother Orchid (the brother part is because he got all twisted up with a bunch of guys living poor, living real poor together under some religious drive, by choice on the outskirts of the city growing orchids for the market to make their small ends meet. That part at least made sense, the orchid part, the Johnny buy in part, Little Johnny S. always loved orchids, always loved to give his lady friends that flower to let them know he cared).
Here is what I was able to gather from a few guys who knew Little Johnny S. better than I did, knew the ins and outs of the guy, and the ins and outs of what brought Johnny low (besides the obviously dame problem that has sent more than one guy to do screwy stuff, sent more than one guy screaming to high heaven, although they usually didn’t take the big step fall down to the skids like Johnny). Most of the information came from Willie “The Knife” so I know it has to be pretty close to the truth because Little Johnny and he were tight at the end and because Willie was telling his tale before his own big step-off, his own nickel to a dime up at Sing Sing and Flo, Flo Addams, you remember her right, Little Johnny’s old flame who wound up on easy street with a big time cattle rancher once Little Johnny saw her as spoiled goods, saw her as an impediment to his new “life.”
Here is what we cobbled together and it makes as much sense as the real story as what the guy did who we are talking about. No question, Little Johnny Sarto (yeah, that’s his real name, or was, before that Brother Orchid moniker got laid on him), played by the old time classic shoot-‘em-up-and-ask-questions-later gangster actor Edward G. Robinson, had grown up on some mean streets in the old city, old New Jack City when the immigrants flooded in a few, a Johnny few, played the percentages and tried to get off of cheap street in one generation. No question either that like every guy (and gal for that matter) who grew up on “the wrong side of the tracks,” grew up “from hunger” poor, had serious wanting habits and was not particular about how he moved up the organized crime food chain during his younger days as a “torpedo” for “Red” Rizzo’s crowd in Flatbush. Illegal liquor, drugs, serious drugs like heroin that guys would go through hell to get (and when it got to be getting off time going through that same hell, some of them anyway, the rest wound up face down in some needle alley), not that silly cocaine that you could buy at any drugstore and sniff your brains out, transporting women, pimping them off too, numbers, a few armed robberies and so on. And Johnny was smart, smart and tough, so he rose pretty swiftly up the chain until one day he was king of his own operation. All without spending day one in some cooped-up jailhouse. As he rose, and as the ways of criminal activity took different turns in the end he confined himself to the very lucrative and safe “protection” racket, you know, not busting up Mr. and Mrs. Jones’ mom and pop variety store or letting anybody else do so for a a little cash pay-off. Easy work, low overhead, out in the mean streets not paved with gold like mom and pop though.
But see, and this I know, know from personal experience, poor boys, poor street urchins, getting to the top of the rackets only goes so far and so Johnny got to thinking about getting the pedigree to be a high-class guy, a high-class guy who guys (and gals) looked up to just because he was high-class. Without sticking a gun, or some fists, in their face to prove the point. And that is what “The Knife,” ever-lovin’ Flo and I think was Little Johnny’s downfall.
One day Johnny checked his bank account, thought he saw that he had more dough than he could use in a lifetime and just walked away from his organization, gone fishing, done. Of course in the rackets, the food chain rackets, leaving doesn’t mean that is the end of the rackets but rather that Johnny was leaving his operation to his lizard right hand man Jack Buck, played by tough guy gangster roles starting with Duke Mantee in The Petrified Forest Humphrey Bogart. Jack who came up the same way as Little Johnny except his way was meaner, tougher and more likely to use a little gunplay to settle any problems. (He was also tough on his women, not afraid to throw a punch or two to keep them in line according to Flo.) So Johnny fled the city for Europe, leaving everything, and everybody, including his longtime girlfriend, Flo, played by Ann Sothern, who was left in the lurch because, well, because she loved Johnny and expected him to marry her. Silly girl.
Naturally a guy like Johnny from the mean streets figured he could buy class, buy that upscale thing with just enough money but here his instincts played him dirty. He did not know rule number one about how the rich and high class got that way, got there over a mountain of skulls, and so Johnny was an easy pick-off once it got around to the high-class grifters that he was in the “high-class” market. Poor sap, many a guy had been put face down in the East River, for doing less that those master thieves of Europe did to Little Johnny. So he busted out, went flat broke, and decided that he needed to get back to his own kind, get back to easy street, get back his old making money hand over fist operation. Good idea. And so he headed home.
But Johnny had a problem, well, really two problems, kind of inter-related. First was one Jack Buck who had built up his operation far beyond the cheapjack operation Johnny ran and so he was not inclined, very much not inclined, to give it up just because some old-time hood, a has-been in the dog-eat dog world of big time criminal activity was making some noises, and second, Johnny with his soft living had lost a step or two and did not have the current capacity to strong-arm Jack out of his place in the food chain. Christ in the end all Johnny had was “The Knife” and while he was a good guy to have in a fight he was not enough to take on Jack’s wrecking crew, including a couple of new age “torpedoes” who shot first and asked questions later. So, one way or the other Johnny was on the lam.
That on the lam part is where things were hazy for Willie and Flo, the part about Johnny getting all shot up by Jack’s goons, being able to escape the worst of it, and finding sanctuary in that brotherhood monastery where he got his new moniker. I could understand where Willie and Flo would have trouble with figuring out Johnny’s new thing, it is hard to get inside a guy’s mind and see what he is up to, especially when he is on the lam and some guys, good guys but naïve is what he thought for a long time show him a different way of looking at life. It was not like Johnny went looking for something, he was just hiding out at the beginning, planning his Jack revenge and getting back on top. Well, he did get his Jack revenge in a funny way, funny since he got help from Flo’s rancher friend whom she wound up marrying and wound up on easy street as a result. Jack’s is now doing from one to ninety-nine at Sing Sing, Flo is married to her Big Sky rancher and raking in whatever she wants, Willie “The Knife” is doing the best he can. And Johnny, oops, Brother Orchid is up there in the woods working for nada, or maybe his soul. Poor sap.
DVD Review
From The Pen Of Frank Jackman
Brother Orchid, starring Edward G. Robinson, Humphrey Bogart, Ann Sothern, 1940
A lot of guys around New York City, a lot of guys on the island of Manhattan especially couldn’t figure it out, tough guys all in their own little “grift,” con, shake-down world, couldn’t figure out the how and why when they heard Little Johnny S., Little Johnny without the “S” to guys in the know, yeah, just Little Johnny was enough to make a lot of guys, wise guys, yeah, all those wondering grifters, con-men, and leg-breakers sweat, wondered why he walked away from his kingpin crime boss job that was just minting dough after the hard times flaked away when the Great Depression hit and the, worse, worst of all, liquor became free and easy to get and that cut the tail out of that racket. Walked away mind you and not carried away by six guys and a hearse provided by some up and coming guy like Jack Buck who was his viper sidekick on the way up, walked away without “Uncle” laying a hand on him, getting him to sweat and fink to get out from under some heavy pall in Atlanta or the “rock,” nada, walked away, get this, so he could “spread the good word,” could do good deeds without reward, and really pay attention to this one, to get by with no dough, no dough of his own anyway. Yeah, Little Johnny S. sure got “religion,” sure bought that one-way ticket. And that, dear friends, is the central theme behind the film under review, Brother Orchid (the brother part is because he got all twisted up with a bunch of guys living poor, living real poor together under some religious drive, by choice on the outskirts of the city growing orchids for the market to make their small ends meet. That part at least made sense, the orchid part, the Johnny buy in part, Little Johnny S. always loved orchids, always loved to give his lady friends that flower to let them know he cared).
Here is what I was able to gather from a few guys who knew Little Johnny S. better than I did, knew the ins and outs of the guy, and the ins and outs of what brought Johnny low (besides the obviously dame problem that has sent more than one guy to do screwy stuff, sent more than one guy screaming to high heaven, although they usually didn’t take the big step fall down to the skids like Johnny). Most of the information came from Willie “The Knife” so I know it has to be pretty close to the truth because Little Johnny and he were tight at the end and because Willie was telling his tale before his own big step-off, his own nickel to a dime up at Sing Sing and Flo, Flo Addams, you remember her right, Little Johnny’s old flame who wound up on easy street with a big time cattle rancher once Little Johnny saw her as spoiled goods, saw her as an impediment to his new “life.”
Here is what we cobbled together and it makes as much sense as the real story as what the guy did who we are talking about. No question, Little Johnny Sarto (yeah, that’s his real name, or was, before that Brother Orchid moniker got laid on him), played by the old time classic shoot-‘em-up-and-ask-questions-later gangster actor Edward G. Robinson, had grown up on some mean streets in the old city, old New Jack City when the immigrants flooded in a few, a Johnny few, played the percentages and tried to get off of cheap street in one generation. No question either that like every guy (and gal for that matter) who grew up on “the wrong side of the tracks,” grew up “from hunger” poor, had serious wanting habits and was not particular about how he moved up the organized crime food chain during his younger days as a “torpedo” for “Red” Rizzo’s crowd in Flatbush. Illegal liquor, drugs, serious drugs like heroin that guys would go through hell to get (and when it got to be getting off time going through that same hell, some of them anyway, the rest wound up face down in some needle alley), not that silly cocaine that you could buy at any drugstore and sniff your brains out, transporting women, pimping them off too, numbers, a few armed robberies and so on. And Johnny was smart, smart and tough, so he rose pretty swiftly up the chain until one day he was king of his own operation. All without spending day one in some cooped-up jailhouse. As he rose, and as the ways of criminal activity took different turns in the end he confined himself to the very lucrative and safe “protection” racket, you know, not busting up Mr. and Mrs. Jones’ mom and pop variety store or letting anybody else do so for a a little cash pay-off. Easy work, low overhead, out in the mean streets not paved with gold like mom and pop though.
But see, and this I know, know from personal experience, poor boys, poor street urchins, getting to the top of the rackets only goes so far and so Johnny got to thinking about getting the pedigree to be a high-class guy, a high-class guy who guys (and gals) looked up to just because he was high-class. Without sticking a gun, or some fists, in their face to prove the point. And that is what “The Knife,” ever-lovin’ Flo and I think was Little Johnny’s downfall.
One day Johnny checked his bank account, thought he saw that he had more dough than he could use in a lifetime and just walked away from his organization, gone fishing, done. Of course in the rackets, the food chain rackets, leaving doesn’t mean that is the end of the rackets but rather that Johnny was leaving his operation to his lizard right hand man Jack Buck, played by tough guy gangster roles starting with Duke Mantee in The Petrified Forest Humphrey Bogart. Jack who came up the same way as Little Johnny except his way was meaner, tougher and more likely to use a little gunplay to settle any problems. (He was also tough on his women, not afraid to throw a punch or two to keep them in line according to Flo.) So Johnny fled the city for Europe, leaving everything, and everybody, including his longtime girlfriend, Flo, played by Ann Sothern, who was left in the lurch because, well, because she loved Johnny and expected him to marry her. Silly girl.
Naturally a guy like Johnny from the mean streets figured he could buy class, buy that upscale thing with just enough money but here his instincts played him dirty. He did not know rule number one about how the rich and high class got that way, got there over a mountain of skulls, and so Johnny was an easy pick-off once it got around to the high-class grifters that he was in the “high-class” market. Poor sap, many a guy had been put face down in the East River, for doing less that those master thieves of Europe did to Little Johnny. So he busted out, went flat broke, and decided that he needed to get back to his own kind, get back to easy street, get back his old making money hand over fist operation. Good idea. And so he headed home.
But Johnny had a problem, well, really two problems, kind of inter-related. First was one Jack Buck who had built up his operation far beyond the cheapjack operation Johnny ran and so he was not inclined, very much not inclined, to give it up just because some old-time hood, a has-been in the dog-eat dog world of big time criminal activity was making some noises, and second, Johnny with his soft living had lost a step or two and did not have the current capacity to strong-arm Jack out of his place in the food chain. Christ in the end all Johnny had was “The Knife” and while he was a good guy to have in a fight he was not enough to take on Jack’s wrecking crew, including a couple of new age “torpedoes” who shot first and asked questions later. So, one way or the other Johnny was on the lam.
That on the lam part is where things were hazy for Willie and Flo, the part about Johnny getting all shot up by Jack’s goons, being able to escape the worst of it, and finding sanctuary in that brotherhood monastery where he got his new moniker. I could understand where Willie and Flo would have trouble with figuring out Johnny’s new thing, it is hard to get inside a guy’s mind and see what he is up to, especially when he is on the lam and some guys, good guys but naïve is what he thought for a long time show him a different way of looking at life. It was not like Johnny went looking for something, he was just hiding out at the beginning, planning his Jack revenge and getting back on top. Well, he did get his Jack revenge in a funny way, funny since he got help from Flo’s rancher friend whom she wound up marrying and wound up on easy street as a result. Jack’s is now doing from one to ninety-nine at Sing Sing, Flo is married to her Big Sky rancher and raking in whatever she wants, Willie “The Knife” is doing the best he can. And Johnny, oops, Brother Orchid is up there in the woods working for nada, or maybe his soul. Poor sap.
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