SHOOTOUT ON THE SUNSET STRIP  

   July 19 1949, would be another long night out on the town.

   Detective Harry Cooper still escorted Mickey. As per Cooper’s even newer agreement with Attorney General Howser, he had been everywhere with Mickey the prior week. Mickey had acquiesced to the cozy night escort with the condition that the city and county police reduce their regular harassment, which included a lot of frisking. Money was pouring in regularly from the Sunset Strip clubs, and Mickey needed assurances that his police protection wouldn’t interfere with his cash flow and normal operations.

   Mickey had dinner at his home with Cooper and sexy Hollywood starlet Dee David of 1545 N. Las Palmas, a very popular social companion who made the rounds.

   Mickey had plans to later meet Florabel Muir, who now went everywhere with him. She wasn’t shy about her motives, “That’s why during the month of July 1949, I was following Mickey Cohen around the gay night spots on the famous Sunset Strip in Hollywood, watching and waiting for someone to try to kill him and hoping I would be there when they did.”

   The growing eclectic entourage spent several hours at the Continental Café, one of Mickey’s joints, before heading over to Sherry’s. Mickey also had met earlier with rotund Artie Samish, the powerful state political figure, at the Charochka Cafe.

   Muir recalled that she first attended a party in the Hollywood Hills to celebrate Gertrude Niesen’s joining the cast of Annie Get Your Gun. Louis Sobel of the New York Journal-American declined to go on with Muir; he knew that a cup of coffee with Mickey meant a long haul, and he needed a good night’s sleep. On her way in to Sherry’s that night Muir joked with police Sergeant Darryl Murray and Detective Harry Cooper, “What are you standing out here for? Trying to get yourself shot?”

   Sergeant Murray had supposedly been present early because he was working undercover to protect Mickey from eastern gangsters who might be muscling in on the local rackets. Murray’s boss, Deputy Chief of Police Thad Brown, thoroughly milked his concerns for Mickey’s protection. Chief Brown wanted the public to know that he had a dual responsibility to protect all citizens and Mickey. Brown went to great pains to publicize that Murray and his squad followed Mickey home every night, and waited until he was safe inside his Brentwood home.

   Sheriff Biscailuz had jumped on the polarized political bandwagon by helping protect the citizens from Mickey, sometimes enlisting support from Santa Monica Chief Joe H. McClelland and Long Beach Chief William H. Dovey. Biscailuz never felt that it was his job to protect Mickey, and this night there wouldn’t be a single sheriff near Sherry’s or the Strip.

   A former New York City detective named Barney Ruditsky owned and ran Sherry’s, as well as Plymouth House, where Detective Otash had slugged Eli Lubin. Ruditsky fared better as a restaurateur but had his complaints, “Every night that Mickey Cohen came in, for the protection of my customers, I sort of watched the place and walked around outside and inside.” Ruditsky thought that Mickey was a pain in the ass, and he particularly didn’t like when the spiffy ice cream junkie showed up late with his entourage.Despite his bickering, Ruditsky knew the nature of the business at that time — you accommodate the Strip traffic or post a closing sign.

     Fratianno recalled the night matter-of-factly, “It had been a slow night at Sherry’s until Mickey Cohen arrived with his entourage for their usual coffee and pastries”.

     Mickey sat inside Sherry’s with Los Angeles Times reporter Ed Meagher and cameraman Clay Willcokson. Mickey signaled for Muir to join the table. All the journalists wanted to hear what Mickey was willing to say about his being the target of a hit. Who was trying to kill him? Was it only Dragna? Why did Mickey now need local police or state-sponsored federal protection?

     Brave Mickey said that he didn’t need the protection, and tried to diminish his audience’s anxieties. The headline happy celebrity told the reporters that he had no fears, “Not as long as you people are around. Even a crazy man wouldn’t take a chance shooting where a reporter might get hit. You’re too hot.”     Mickey’s logic had always worked in the past. Surrounded by columnists with famous bylines, actors, and politicians, he felt safer nightclubbing than he did in his own home. Mickey insisted that the only problem was Biscailuz and his nonsensical frisking stunts; his officers still had instructions to stop and pad down Mickey’s men on sight.

   When Neddie Herbert joined the bull session, the banter switched to the old days in New York. Neddie talked about how his family survived in the poultry business. Max Annenberg, circulation director of the Daily News, “was like my rabbi”, he told the enraptured audience. “He used to kick me in the pants and tell me to get on home and stay off the streets so I wouldn’t get in no trouble.”