James "Jimmy" Hoffa
By: Alyssa Freund
Back in the old days, the days of simple prosperity forthcoming from the showcasing of expensive pipes and good old loafers, a dashing, charismatic, extremely well-rounded young (or perhaps not so young) man came to a position of great influence and power. Born in February 1913 in Brazil, Indiana, his true reign encompassed the 1930s up into the early 1980s. Although, as he grew he became a bully, no doubt, his physical forwardness and belief that "a real man should be able to handle himself with his fists" when words failed to intimidate an adversary, accompanied with his political underground manipulation methods gained him the respect, loyalty, and fear he truly deserved from a variety of Labor Union Member. This admiration and reverence allowed him to become president of the Teamsters, avert many strikes, and spend 13 years incarcerated. That prosperous man was me. James Riddle Hoffa. Nicknamed Jimmy Hoffa. My primary loyalty was to the Labor Unions, and with the International Brotherhood of Teamsters. I successfully unified all freight drivers under the National Master Freight Agreement. I both averted and strategically organized worker strikes against big employers, when in the interest of the union, in order to obtain equality and better conditions to work in. I was essential in the struggle and creation of the Teamster's pension plan. My work and what I did was instrumental in building up Las Vegas and the strip, specifically casinos funded by the pension plan. The Stardust Resort and Casino, The Fremont Hotel and Casino, Desert Inn, the Four Queens, Circus Circus, and Caesars Palace were all created with my invested money into pensions. I had very powerful connections, not only to members of high ranking in the mafia, but I also had connections and met with Robert F Kennedy, president of the United States of America. I became president of many labor unions, and in 1958, I graduated from vice-president to president of the Teamsters. While incarcerated, I also ran for the New York seat in the 1964 US senate Election, which was successful, might I add. Despite all my acheivements, Im still viewed and portrayed as a villain to society, an evil gangster, but here I tell you"I don't intend to have the impression left that I'm controlled by gangsters. I'm not controlled by them." On July 30, 1982, in Bloomfield Township, Michigan, I disappeared in front of the Machus Red Fox Restaurant. Some claim murder, but there is no true solution to this mystery. The commonly accepted myth is that I was cremated in a funeral parlor 2 miles from my home. Some say I my decapitated body was stuffed into a steel drum and buried in a toxic waste facility. Some say Im still alive, even though I would be over a hundred years old. But still, some would say, and this one is my favorite, that I was fed through a meat grinder and made into hot dogs. But who knows… Perhaps this summer at your best friends party, you unknowingly ingested the body of the great Jimmy Hoffa. Nevertheless, the Elvis of organized crime is no more, but a legacy in his name lives on everyday.