From "Cincinnati Post", June 5, 1906
George Barnsdale “Boss” Cox ruled this city like a private business for more than 35 years from the 1880s into the 1920s. How did he get away with decades of corruption and graft? The short answer is minions.
All crime lords require legions of minor functionaries to perform the dirty work while the ringleader impersonates a respectable citizen. Cox had his chief lieutenants, of course, notably August “Garry” Herrmann, Rudolph “Rud” Hynicka, and Mike Mullen, but hundreds of lesser factotums kept the Cox Machine humming. Among this disreputable mob was Vivian J. Fagin. We ought to resuscitate some antique words to describe Viv Fagin: He was a bounder and a cad.
In 1888, while being interviewed for a minor political plum job—assistant sergeant at arms for a City Council subcommittee—Fagin insulted the Councilman heading the hiring process. Someone on the committee calmly suggested Fagin show some respect. Fagin took offense, physically attacked the hiring committee and drew a pistol before he was overpowered and ejected from the room. Not surprisingly, he didn’t get the gig.
When a proposal to extend Court Street up into Mount Adams came before the Hamilton County Commissioners, Viv Fagin was very interested. He lived in Mount Adams, the heart of Cincinnati’s Fourth Ward. In that ward, Fagin was a force to be reckoned with, and he led a delegation of Mount Adams residents into the Courthouse to meet with the road planners. There, Fagin met John J. Rooney, City Council representative from the Fourth Ward. According to the Commercial-Gazette [February 25, 1894]:
“Mr. Rooney and Mr. Fagin soon were using some very forcible language and did not desist until called to order by the Chairman. The fact that not one of the delegation was opposed to the proposed improvement struck everybody as humorous.”
In 1897, Fagin, by then luxuriating in one of his featherbed positions as deputy county treasurer, wandered into the Mecca on Walnut Street with a gang of his cronies. The Mecca was among the classiest saloons in Cincinnati and kept a table reserved for Boss Cox, whose office was located upstairs. After several rounds, Fagin and his friends prepared to depart. Bartender Billy Tahse reminded them it was time to settle the tab. Fagin replied with a “vile epithet” and Tahse agreed he could pay later. According to the Enquirer [July 9, 1897]:
“This did not conciliate Fagin, who vigorously denied that he owned anyone in the place a cent. In fact the very idea of his owing for a few drinks seemed to terribly exasperate Mr. Cox’s henchman. The more he thought of it the hotter he got. Finally, with an oath, he picked up a silver ice water pitcher that was on the counter and hurled it at Tahse’s head.”
The projectile missed, so Fagin grabbed a crystal serving dish and chased Tahse around the barroom. Someone outside heard the disturbance and called the police who were very reluctant to arrest one of Boss Cox’s men. Instead, the officers escorted Fagin outside, exchanged a few words and let him walk.
Oddly, Viv Fagin was not entirely devoted to Boss Cox. His career reminds us that all politics is messy. This was especially true in the Cincinnati of the Boss Cox era. Frank Y. Grayson, chronicler of the Cox era, described Fagin as the “stormy petrel” of Hamilton County politics. He changed allegiances as the political winds shifted.
Fagin, son of a city policeman, completed high school and studied at one of Cincinnati’s several business schools. He began his professional life as a bookkeeper and returned to accountancy on those occasions when patronage jobs dried up. His business acumen served him well in the corrupt Cox morass—he could see where the money flowed.
From "Cincinnati Times-Star", June 3, 1889
Always chasing some political advantage, Fagin’s political life began as an anti-Cox Republican in the faction led by beer scion George Moerlein. With Moerlein’s help, Fagin represented the Fourth Ward on City Council for two terms. In return for the promise of a cushy appointment, Fagin abandoned Moerlein and threw his support to Cox. When a reform movement temporarily hobbled the Cox machine, Fagin signed on as a Democrat but reverted to the Republican fold after four years of frustration. In his 1912 apology letter, Fagin said he thought he had landed on a Democratic rose, but discovered it was only “fertilizer.”
Throughout these rotating allegiances, Fagin mostly landed on his feet, awarded various sinecures as assistant city treasurer, assistant county recorder, assistant county treasurer, and United States Marshal. Fagin’s nasty temper remained intact. According to Henry Wright’s 1905 book, Bossism In Cincinnati:
“United States Marshal Vivian Fagin has the reputation of a bully and a thug in his own neighborhood on Mt. Adams. One day he struck in the face one of our leading citizens, for no other offense than that he occupied a place upon the inclined plane truck that Fagin wanted. A warrant was asked for at the Police Court for his arrest, but the clerk assumed to prejudge the case and refused the warrant. Nothing was done.”
According to Grayson, writing in the Cincinnati Times-Star [June 5, 1931], Fagin’s arrogance and ambition finally caused his downfall:
“Fagin dreamed of a new political empire and of a new local Republican party with himself as leader, but the dream faded.”
It was a bad move. Fagin’s scheme cratered when his closest allies revolted. For several years, Fagin ruled the Fourth Ward from his home on Celestial Street. As ward captain, it was Fagin’s job to produce the votes, which he did magnificently, assisted by precinct executives who knew they would be rewarded for the turnout with a beer and a pickled pig foot at Harry Hopkin’s saloon on St. Gregory Street. They called themselves the Pig Knuckle Gang.
In 1906, Fagin launched his coup, publicly attacking Cox’s golden boy, Mike Mullen. Suspecting that Fagin was getting a tad too big for his britches, Fagin’s own Pig Knuckle Gang turned against him. In a secret meeting with Mullen at William Degischer’s saloon on Lock Street, the Pig Knuckle Gang drew up a list of charges, real and imagined, against their former leader. Someone slipped a copy to Fagin, who had the whole lot arrested when he sued for libel. The trial captivated Cincinnati and resulted in two of the Pig Knuckle agitators, Theodore Zumstein and Harry Peet, referred to the grand jury on criminal charges. The damage, however, was done.
Testimony during the trial revealed that “Rud” Hynicka had asked Fagin to help topple Boss Cox. Fagin refused, but the fact that Hynicka even asked him made Fagin suspect among the Cox faithful. Hynicka eventually grabbed the controls of the Cox machine and Fagin’s refusal to back the new boss marked him as an outcast. For airing the Republican party’s dirty laundry in court, Fagin was removed as U.S. Marshal.
Fagin declared bankruptcy and retired from politics, operating a detective agency for a while, but ended his days as an accountant specializing in tax assessment disputes. His contacts among Republican officeholders were still useful.
When Fagin died in 1931, his “stormy petrel” days were almost forgotten. Al Segal, who built a career at the Cincinnati Post fighting the Cox machine and all its minions through his crusading “Cincinnatus” column, had nothing but compliments for the departed henchman.
“Cincinnatus salutes the passing Fagin. He was a likeable person.”
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