Al Capone's Cicero: Exploring Chicago's Historic Gangster Suburb Today

In 1924, when Chicago became too hot for Al Capone's operations, he shifted his criminal empire to neighboring Cicero. It wasn't just a tactical retreat—it was a full-scale invasion. Capone's men terrorized voters, kidnapped election officials, and essentially staged a coup of the entire town government.

Walking Cicero's streets today, it's hard to imagine the level of corruption that once permeated every aspect of local life. The former Hawthorne Inn (now demolished) at 4833 W. 22nd Street (now Cermak Road) served as Capone's fortress. From my research before arriving, I knew to bring along my digital voice recorder to capture my thoughts and observations—particularly useful when you're trying to overlay historical context onto modern landscapes.

The Anton Hotel building still stands at 4835 W. Cermak Road, though it's been repurposed many times. During Prohibition, it housed Capone's gambling operations on the second floor. Today, you'd never guess its notorious past if not for the occasional historical marker.

Cicero was strategic for Capone not just as a political haven but as a bootlegging distribution hub. The suburb's proximity to Chicago combined with its compliant local government made it ideal for moving illegal alcohol throughout the region.

My exploration took me to the western edge of Cicero where several former brewery sites once operated as illegal distilleries. While researching these locations, I found my thermal imaging monocular surprisingly useful for examining old brick buildings—it helps reveal architectural features and structural changes not visible to the naked eye. This might seem like overkill for urban exploration, but for history buffs trying to identify century-old modifications to buildings, it's fascinating.

The Western Electric Company's Hawthorne Works site (now mostly gone) was another significant location. While not directly tied to Capone, this massive industrial complex employed thousands of Cicero residents during the Prohibition era, creating the backdrop against which the gangster saga played out. Today, a small museum at Morton College preserves some of this industrial heritage.

Today's Cicero bears little resemblance to the gangster haven of the 1920s. The town has transformed into a vibrant Latino community, with over 80% of residents identifying as Hispanic or Latino. This cultural shift has brought incredible food, colorful murals, and a renewed sense of community to the area.

Exploring Cicero's culinary scene became a highlight of my visit. The 26th Street corridor offers some of the most authentic Mexican cuisine I've found outside of Mexico. I spent an afternoon sampling tacos, sopes, and horchata at various family-owned establishments, using my pocket translator to chat with shop owners about their family recipes and the neighborhood's history.

The town also hosts vibrant cultural celebrations throughout the year, including Cinco de Mayo festivities and summer street festivals that would be unrecognizable to visitors from Capone's era. I was fortunate enough to catch a local art exhibition featuring works that cleverly juxtaposed Cicero's notorious past with its multicultural present.

What fascinates me about places like Cicero is the tension between preserving history and embracing progress. Unlike Las Vegas, which commercializes its mob connections, or Chicago, which runs gangster tours, Cicero has largely moved on from its Capone associations. There's wisdom in this approach—why should a diverse, forward-looking community be defined by its darkest chapter?

Yet for urban explorers and history enthusiasts, this creates a compelling treasure hunt. Armed with my leather travel journal and historical maps, I spent hours comparing old photographs with current streetscapes, identifying buildings that have survived from the 1920s.

The Olympic Theater building on Cermak Road, though repurposed, remains an architectural gem from the era. The Hawthorne Race Course, while not directly connected to Capone, operated during his time and continues as Chicagoland's oldest sporting venue. These structures provide tangible connections to the past while serving contemporary needs.