"Uh," he said. Then he turned and left.
"He's a millionaire," the one with us said. "They say he has $30 million cash."
This was as much of Moriarty as anybody ever saw, unless they did a lot of business with him. "I grew up with him," Jersey City Mayor Thomas Gangemi says, "and I never saw him again until he got in the papers with arrests. All I know is that he is the best ad for legalized gambling I can find."
For those who prefer their gambling people to ride Cadillacs, wear hand-stitched suits and be good fellows around a bar, Newsboy Moriarty is a tremendous letdown. Since he started in the business in the 1920's, he has dressed and acted like a drifter. He has never worn a tie and nearly always needs a shave. He wears sports shirts bought in side-street bargain stores and baggy pants and cheap shoes. He could buy a wardrobe with a $50 bill. His whole life has been dedicated to making people think he had no money.
You could find him, a lot of mornings, eating breakfast at a place in Jersey City called the Excell. Newsboy would come in a few minutes before 6 in the morning and have bacon and eggs and coffee and then order two containers of coffee and two pieces of Danish to take out. He would pay the bill in change and would always tip Steve the Greek, the counterman, with a quarter.
"Where you take the coffee?" Steve was saying to Newsboy when he handed him the containers one morning.
"Factory," Newsboy said.
"You wark in the factory?" Steve said.
"Uh huh," Moriarty said.
"Your sister has two thousand dollar with her sometime," Steve said.