One night in the early 1940's, when Chicago had the reputation for being home base for many gangsters, the underworld reached up and touched the Black Hawks 1938 Stanley Cup-winning goalie Mike Karakas.
Climbing out of a cab after a game, Karakas was about to enter the Guyon Hotel -- then home for many Black Hawks -- when a stranger came up to him and said, "Got a match, buddy?" Reaching into his pocket, Mike said, "Sure."
But, suddenly, he felt something hard jabbing into his ribs and the stranger was saying, "Keep yer yap shut and get into the car."
Petrified, Karakas complied, fearing the worst. He had been "snatched" by gangsters and usually "the ride" only ended one way. He sat in the back of the car and prayed.
The car was driven to the city limits and in an uninhabited area it stopped.
"Get out," one of the thugs snapped, "and keep your yap shut."
Karakas obeyed. In that cold, abandoned spot the hoods gathered around the frightened goalie. Mike mumbled to himself: "This is it."
"How much dough ya' got?" one of the gangsters demanded.
"Just a few bucks," said Karakas, handing over his wallet.
"Anything else?"
"Only this watch, but I'd like to keep it," he said.
"Let's see it."
Karakas pulled the watch out and handed it to the kidnappers. It had been awarded to him after he helped the Black Hawks win the Stanley Cup in 1938.
One of the gangsters examined it by flashlight. He noticed that it was inscribed in the back. It said: "Presented to Mike Karakas, Chicago Black Hawks ---."
"Geez," the hood cried out, "are you Mike Karakas?"
"Yes," the goalie answered, very confused.
"Well that makes everything different. You don't need to worry, Mike, we ain't gonna' hurt ya'. Them Hawks would be a bunch of bums without ya'."
By now Karakas was feeling a whole lot better; like he might even make it to the next day.
"Look," he said, "give me the watch and keep the money. I just want to get out of here."
"Sure, Mike, sure," the hood beamed. "You're okay. Here's some cash so you can catch a bus back into town."
With that, the hoodlums left Mike Karakas standing alone as they roared off in their big, black sedan. Meanwhile, the relieved goalie finally made his way back to the hotel. After entering the lobby, he saw his close friend and teammate Max Bentley and told him what had happened.
Then, Karakas drew on a deep, satisfying breath and momentarily mulled over his melodrama. After a long pause, he turned to his pal Bentley and came to an ironic conclusion.
"Those jerks will probably be in [Chicago] Stadium rooting for me the next time we play!"
