Bumpy Johnson Was Thrown From a Four-Story Building by a White Gang — Two Hours Later Came the Biggest Shootout in Harlem
Saturday, October 4, 1952.
8:47 p.m.
Rooftop of 2289 Seventh Avenue, West 134th Street, Harlem, New York.
Temperature: 61°F. Clear sky. Nearly full moon.
Four stories high — 48 feet from rooftop to concrete sidewalk.
Bumpy Johnson stood at the center of the roof.
Thirteen men formed a semicircle around him. All white. All armed — baseball bats, crowbars, tire irons. Close-combat weapons. Guns would have been too quick, too merciful. This was meant to send a message through pain and humiliation.
They called themselves the Westside Boys, operating out of Hell’s Kitchen — an Irish-Italian crew led by Patrick “Red” Malone, age 34, six feet tall, 195 pounds, red hair, violent reputation.
The Westside Boys controlled several blocks in Hell’s Kitchen. Protection rackets, loan sharking, gambling. Harlem, however, was not their territory.
Harlem belonged to Bumpy Johnson.
Everyone knew it.
They came anyway.
The conflict began three weeks earlier, on September 13, 1952.
A numbers runner named Tommy De Laqua had been working for Bumpy along the border between Hell’s Kitchen and Harlem — West 57th to West 60th Street. Mixed territory. Both organizations claimed it.
Tommy paid Bumpy’s percentage and operated peacefully for six months.
Then the Westside Boys decided they wanted the territory exclusively.
Red Malone sent two men to Tommy. The message was simple: stop working for Bumpy, start working for them — or stop working permanently.
Tommy reported it to Bumpy.
Bumpy sent Marcus Webb with a countermessage: the area was open territory. Tommy worked for Bumpy. The Westside Boys could run their own numbers, but they couldn’t force Bumpy’s runners out.
Professional. Neutral. Fair.
Red Malone rejected it.
On September 17, Tommy De Laqua was found in an alley. Both arms broken. Face unrecognizable.
Message delivered. Message received.
Bumpy responded proportionally. On September 19, he sent three men to Hell’s Kitchen. They found two Westside Boys collecting protection money at a bar on Tenth Avenue.
Both were hospitalized. Arms broken. Faces damaged.
Equal response. The conflict should have ended there.
Red Malone saw it as escalation. As disrespect. As a Black man striking white men on their own ground.
He decided to end it permanently.
The plan was simple: lure Bumpy to a peace meeting, ambush him, kill him, dump the body, let Harlem fracture.
The meeting was scheduled for Saturday, October 4, 8:30 p.m., at 2289 Seventh Avenue.
The building owner owed Red Malone money. He provided access.
Bumpy arrived alone, five minutes late — deliberate. He climbed the fire escape and reached the roof at 8:42 p.m.
Red Malone was waiting with twelve men.
Bumpy understood immediately. This wasn’t a meeting. It was an execution.
Red explained calmly. Bones would be broken. A message would be sent. Then Bumpy would be thrown off the roof.
Bumpy assessed the situation. Thirteen men. No escape. Fighting or compliance led to the same end.
So he chose control.
“Either beat me or throw me,” he said. “Stop talking.”
He walked toward the edge.
Red hesitated — surprised. Then nodded.
Four men grabbed Bumpy and dragged him to the ledge.
At 8:47 p.m., Bumpy Johnson was thrown from the roof.
The fall lasted 1.7 seconds.
He hit feet first, then hip, then shoulder, rolling on impact.
Left femur fractured. Hip dislocated. Shoulder separated. No skull fracture. No spinal damage.
Alive.
Pedestrians screamed. Someone called police.
The Westside Boys fled.
Bumpy dragged himself into a nearby alley before authorities arrived. A woman recognized him and helped. He gave her Marcus Webb’s number.
“Tell him Red Malone,” Bumpy said.
“Tell him bring everyone. Bring everything. Two hours.”
At 9:15 p.m., Marcus arrived.
Field medicine stabilized Bumpy. Pain was secondary now.
By 10:15 p.m., 37 men assembled. The arsenal was extensive — pistols, shotguns, Thompsons.
Five teams. Five targets. Simultaneous attacks at 10:45 p.m.
• Sullivan’s Tavern
• Dempsey’s Gym
• Lucky Seven Gambling Den
• Murphy’s Garage
• Omali’s Bar
At exactly 10:45 p.m., the shooting began.
Four minutes. Five locations.
Forty-nine Westside Boys killed.
Zero survivors.
Zero losses on Bumpy’s side.
Red Malone died at Sullivan’s Tavern, shot mid-drink.
By 10:49 p.m., it was over.
Police arrived minutes later to devastation and silence.
The Westside Boys ceased to exist.
The case was never solved.
By December 1952, Bumpy returned to Harlem with a limp and a cane. He resumed operations openly.
The message was permanent.
Attack Bumpy Johnson, and your organization dies.
Not damaged.
Not weakened.
Erased.
Saturday, October 4, 1952:
8:47 p.m. — Bumpy Johnson thrown from a building.
10:45 p.m. — the Westside Boys destroyed.
Two hours.
Permanent consequences.
