The Decline of Al Capone: From Feared Gangster to Feeble Man
Alphonse Gabriel Capone, more commonly known as Al Capone, once stood at the apex of the American underworld, synonymous with organised crime during the Prohibition era. Born in 1899 in Brooklyn, New York, to Italian immigrant parents, Capone’s early years provided little indication of the figure he would become. He grew up in a typical working-class environment, but his propensity for violence and quick rise within criminal circles would eventually lead him to dominate Chicago’s illicit businesses. Capone’s life was marked by power, wealth, and notoriety, but his death was a stark contrast—a long and painful decline into madness and physical decay, driven by the untreated ravages of syphilis.
Capone’s Rise to Power
Before exploring the tragic end of Capone’s life, it’s important to understand his meteoric rise. Capone, the fourth of nine children, dropped out of school at 14 after assaulting a teacher. His path into crime began shortly thereafter, working with local street gangs in Brooklyn. He eventually joined the Five Points Gang, a notorious Italian-American criminal organisation, where he came under the mentorship of Johnny Torrio. Torrio would later call upon Capone to join him in Chicago, where the groundwork for one of the most notorious crime empires in American history would be laid.
By his mid-20s, Capone had become a dominant force in Chicago’s criminal scene, especially after taking control of Torrio’s organisation following an assassination attempt on Torrio’s life. Prohibition, which began in 1920, provided the perfect opportunity for Capone’s empire to flourish. Bootlegging alcohol became highly lucrative, and Capone’s network of illegal breweries, speakeasies, and supply chains generated immense profits. With that wealth came power—he had corrupt police officers, politicians, and public officials under his thumb. Yet, despite his violent reputation, Capone cultivated a public image as a benefactor, giving to local charities and establishing soup kitchens during the Great Depression.
Beneath this carefully constructed public persona, however, Capone’s health was already beginning to unravel. Like many men of his time, Capone frequented brothels, and it is believed that he contracted syphilis at some point in his early life. The precise timeline of his infection remains unclear, but it is likely that he contracted the disease in his late teens or early twenties, possibly before meeting his future wife, Mae.
Syphilis: The Silent Enemy
Syphilis, a sexually transmitted infection, was rampant in the early 20th century. Without the advent of penicillin, which would not be widely available until the 1940s, the disease often progressed unchecked in many individuals. The disease has multiple stages, beginning with painful sores at the site of infection, followed by rashes and fevers, which then disappear as the infection enters a latent phase. Unfortunately for Capone, his early symptoms faded, leading him to believe the disease had resolved itself.
In reality, syphilis had retreated into his body, quietly progressing to its tertiary stage, where it began to attack his nervous system. During this stage, the bacteria can cause devastating damage to the brain, nerves, eyes, and heart, leading to neurosyphilis—a form of the disease that affects mental and physical function. Capone’s decision to leave the disease untreated would have tragic consequences later in his life.
By the time Capone married Mae in 1918, it is almost certain he was already infected. Their only child, Albert Francis “Sonny” Capone, was born in December 1918 with congenital syphilis. Sonny was a sickly child, and later developed an infection that caused him to lose hearing in one ear, a common consequence of congenital syphilis. Mae’s own health, in terms of whether she contracted the disease from her husband, remains a matter of speculation, though she appeared to escape the worst of the infection.
Imprisonment and Health Decline
For much of his criminal career, Capone evaded justice. His ruthlessness ensured that witnesses and enemies rarely survived to testify against him, and his bribes to public officials meant charges were often dropped. However, in 1931, Capone was finally convicted—not for his many violent crimes, but for tax evasion. Sentenced to 11 years in prison, he began his sentence in May 1932 at the federal penitentiary in Atlanta. During his intake examination, doctors confirmed Capone had syphilis of the nervous system, alongside gonorrhoea and a perforated nasal septum caused by years of cocaine use.
Initially, Capone’s stay at the Atlanta penitentiary was relatively comfortable. His wealth and connections ensured he received favourable treatment—he was given easy jobs, had unrestricted access to the warden, and enjoyed special privileges. But the authorities, wary of his continued influence over prison staff, moved him in 1934 to Alcatraz, a new federal prison designed to house the most dangerous criminals in America.
Alcatraz, isolated on an island in San Francisco Bay, was a harsh environment. Capone’s ability to bribe officials and manipulate the system was stripped from him. His mental state, already fragile, rapidly deteriorated in the prison’s unforgiving conditions. His behaviour became erratic, marked by confusion, delusions, and paranoia. By the mid-1930s, Capone was experiencing severe disorientation, and his speech was often slurred. One moment, he claimed he could fix the Great Depression; the next, he believed he was in direct communication with God.
In 1938, his condition had worsened to the point where he was transferred to the prison’s hospital. There, doctors attempted to treat his syphilis, but it was too late to reverse the damage. Despite attempts to stabilise his condition, Capone’s decline was irreversible. He was moved to Terminal Island prison in California in 1939 and released later that year due to his failing health. By then, he was no longer the formidable gangster who had terrorised Chicago, but a mentally diminished and physically weakened man.
The Final Years: A Childlike Existence
After his release from prison, Capone returned to his estate on Palm Island in Miami Beach, Florida. His wife, Mae, became his full-time carer, protecting him from the outside world and maintaining a tight circle around the ailing former mob boss. Capone’s mental state vacillated between brief moments of clarity and long stretches of delusion. He often spoke to imaginary figures—some of whom were long-dead associates, while others were purely products of his deteriorating mind.
Dr. Joseph Moore, a leading expert on syphilis who treated Capone following his release, estimated that by 1941, Capone’s mental capacity had regressed to that of a child between the ages of seven and fourteen. The once feared and brutal gangster now spent his days walking the grounds of his estate, observing butterflies with his grandchildren or speaking incoherently to invisible figures from his past. Rumours persist that Capone would spend hours in his pyjamas, staring at fish in his garden pond, though these stories are likely exaggerated.
Capone’s physical health also continued to deteriorate. His weakened immune system left him vulnerable to frequent infections. His once commanding physique had withered, and he was no longer able to care for himself in any meaningful way. Despite various experimental treatments, including injections of bismuth and arsenicals, and even an attempt to induce fever with malaria to combat his syphilis, nothing could undo the years of neurological damage caused by the disease.
The End of Al Capone
Capone’s final days in January 1947 were marked by a series of medical crises. On January 21, he suffered a stroke, which left him unconscious and severely weakened. Though he briefly regained consciousness, he developed pneumonia shortly after. The infection proved to be too much for his frail body, and on January 25, 1947, Capone died at the age of 48. Officially, pneumonia was listed as the cause of death, though his years of untreated syphilis had undoubtedly played a significant role in weakening him.
Capone’s death was, in many ways, as private as his life had been public. A quiet funeral was held in Chicago, attended only by close family and friends. The Capone family never publicly addressed the rumours that syphilis had contributed to his demise, and in obituaries at the time, the disease was notably absent from mention.
For a man who had once dominated the headlines as America’s most notorious gangster, Al Capone’s death was a far cry from the larger-than-life figure he had once been. His mind, once sharp and calculating, had been consumed by disease, and his body, once a symbol of power, had withered under its assault. Capone’s final years serve as a reminder of the slow, unrelenting devastation that untreated syphilis could inflict—a fate shared by other prominent figures of his time.
In the end, the man who had built a criminal empire with violence and corruption spent his last days in a confused and childlike state, a tragic figure consumed by the disease that ultimately brought about his fall.
