From Brownsville to the Big Kahn
Jewish Crime in Graphic Fiction
One of the pleasures of being a librarian, or even just being a library patron, is seeing how groupings of books naturally occur, which makes a great launching point for research and topics to write about. Recently, I noticed a distinct grouping in our collection: books on Jewish gangsters and grifters. The collection includes Jew Gangster: A Father's Admonition by Joe Kubert, Brownsville by Neil Kleid, Meyer by Jonathan Lang, and The Big Kahn: A Sequential Drama by Neil Kleid. Together, these books offer a fascinating glimpse into the underworld figures who once played a significant role in American crime history.
I've always recognized the gangster "type" in my father (who, to be clear, was not a criminal), particularly in his attitude toward business and dealing with authorities. His admiration for Meyer Lansky was open and unabashed. Lansky, a key figure in organized crime, built his reputation on an unusual code of honesty—at least within his business dealings. He paid his employees well, never cheated in the casino, and upheld an internal integrity that made him a legend in both criminal and mainstream financial circles. To my father, this was something to admire: a man who operated by his own set of rules but did so with consistency and fairness.
The books in our collection explore different facets of Jewish gangster history. Joe Kubert’s Jew Gangster is a familiar noir-style story that details how some gangsters were drawn into the life as a survival mechanism from abject poverty. It also portrays a story of Jewish immigrant assimilation into mainstream American life. Kubert’s drawing skill is legendary and was honed by decades of work at both Marvel and DC, where he worked on numerous titles such as Hawkman, Sgt. Rock, and many others.
Neil Kleid’s Brownsville, illustrated by Jake Allen, follows the careers of several infamous figures associated with Murder, Inc., capturing the subtle corruption that settles upon naive players. Kleid’s strong narrative style interweaves multiple character threads into a compelling narrative, and Allen’s cinematic, storyboard-like art complements the story’s gritty realism. The Big Kahn, also by Kleid but illustrated by Nicolas Cinquegrani, is a different kind of tale—it follows the reactions of a wife, daughter, and two sons grieving the death of Rabbi David Kahn, whose passing unveils a shocking secret about his identity and history of grift before turning himself into a Rabbi. Cinquegrani’s straightforward and cinematic graphic style seamlessly integrates flashbacks, as each character recalls memories of the man they thought they knew.
Meyer by Jonathan Lang, in contrast, takes a more fantastical approach, departing from Meyer Lansky's actual biography and transforming him into a mythic figure who inspires a much younger caretaker who looks after him at the end of his life. While the book's graphic style is dynamic, the storytelling itself is weaker compared to the other three titles.
Jewish gangsters have long occupied a complex space in American Jewish history. For many, they were figures of shame, reinforcing negative stereotypes; for others, they represented a kind of tough, self-sufficient Jewishness that pushed back against victimization. As these graphic novels show, the story of Jewish crime in America is not just about violence and corruption, but about survival, reinvention, and the blurred lines between moral codes in different communities.
This natural clustering of books in our collection not only provides an entry point into history but also invites readers to reflect on the broader cultural implications of these stories. It’s another reminder of why libraries—and the connections we make within them—are such rich places for discovery.
Great post. My mother and I were just reminiscing about my great aunt's stories about when "Uncle Nussin" showed up at my great-grandparents' house. The kids were sent to their rooms and Uncle Nussin and his buddies ate whatever dinner was on the table. That's all we know about him but the family legend is that he was in some kind of gang.