August 1917 was brutally hot in Brooklyn. The Heath spell killed 272 people in the city's most populated borough.

Residents would do just about anything to cool off.

Families that could afford it checked into the better hotels in town, those with electricity,

in order to enjoy the blessed relief of an electric fan.

Early that month, more than 100,000 people spent the night sleeping on the beach at Coney Island,

fighting off the mosquitoes and the sand fleas.

The intense heat caused a stoppage on Brooklyn's elevated lines when crews walked off the job because of the sweltering weather.

Young Brooklyn thug Al Capone took a cab to Coney Island.

As he traveled down Ocean Parkway, he wasn't surprised to see people practically living on

the sidewalks trying to get a breath of fresh air.

He sat in the back seat and joined the light breeze from the open windows on his way to the Harvard Inn,

a club that belonged to Capone's employer, gangster Frankie Yale.

It wasn't much of a job, he was just a glorified bouncer, but he sought as a way to work himself up someday to make you dough for himself.

When he made it to Coney Island, Capone had the driver turned down a side street

in order to avoid the heavy traffic on Surf Avenue.

Dubbed the poor man's Riviera, the street was a paradise for those seeking relief from the heat.

He had the cabby drop him off at Neptune Avenue around

a block from the club and walked the brightly lit street that was experiencing the usual traffic jam

created by automobiles loaded with fun seekers circling the streets in search of parking.

Gaponne wore a light blue suit and a white shirt with a collar and

coughs. He also wore a new straw hat on his sweaty head to try and shield his head from the

blazing August sun. He hoped it would be a little cooler down here by the beach, but on this night,

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