Ronald J. Lawrence

Jesse Stoneking

Before Jimmy Fratianno made ratting out mob bosses fashionable, Jesse Stoneking's testimony against St. Louis mob figures was the most damaging ever heard in a courtroom. It helped send more than 30 gangsters to prison. Stoneking was a respected and feared wise guy, a lieutenant to St. Louis Outfit boss Art Berne and an accomplished thief. When Stoneking was packed off to prison in 1981, Berne failed to take care of Stoneking's family as promised. That disloyalty quickly turned Stoneking into an FBI informant.

 by Ronald J. Lawrence

"I never thought anything about cracking a guy. So what? It was just something you had to do. I figured the guy deserved it."
- Jesse Stoneking

It was a little after 1 a.m. in 1988 when the swarthy, ruggedly handsome man stepped out onto the porch of his mother's house in north St. Louis County. The mid-summer day had been one of stifling humidity and heat. He could hear a distant rumbling of thunder and see a glimmer of lightning. Above him rain-laden clouds low on the horizon forebode an approaching storm. It was what much of Jesse Stoneking's life of 42 years had been about. One storm after another, endless crises, and of late, countless burdens that would break the wills of weaker men.

Stoneking's eyes surveyed the landscape in all directions, but they detected nothing alarming. He was in hostile territory and he only was being prudent and cautious as he had learned long ago to be. It was how one survived in his world. As he drove away, a red Buick with a white top eased out of the shadows half a block down the street behind him, its headlights off. He saw it immediately, but he was not alarmed. He increased his speed. So did the Buick. He slowed and so did it.

Map of St. Robert Missouri area

Rising from the hills of the Ozarks in south central Missouri, Saint Robert, a hamlet of 1,500 residents, had the appearance of a prototypical small town in rural America. But looks can be deceiving. With the Army's sprawling training center at Fort Leonard Wood nearby, Saint Robert was home to hundreds of prostitutes, pimps, drug dealers, gamblers, corrupt politicians, organized crime and hit men. And it liked it that way.

by Ronald J. Lawrence

Prologue

Just 30 years ago, it was the Sodom and Gomorrah of the Midwest, a monument to decadence and the pleasures of the flesh rising from the hills of the Ozarks in south central Missouri.

From Interstate 44, Saint Robert, a seemingly peaceful community of 1,500, appeared to be no different than any other small town in rural America. There were businesses and a church steeple here and there. The sprawling Army training center at Fort Leonard Wood, the economic lifeblood of the region, was a short distance to the south.

But behind the veneer of serenity and virtue, beyond view from the highway, was a totally different community where the perverse prevailed. When night fell, so did moral constraints and the sin pits came alive. It was home to hundreds of hookers, pimps, drug dealers, corrupt public officials, gamblers, organized crime and hit men.

It had been an oasis of sin for a long time, but by the early 1970s, the complexion of the iniquity grasping Saint Robert and Pulaski County darkened threateningly. As the citizens began dodging bullets and bombs, they abruptly awoke from their indifference and tolerance. They realized matters had gotten dangerously out of hand, that it wasn't just about prostitution any more. It was about decency and their survival.

It was time to bring down the walls of Sodom and Gomorrah.