We often think of Jack Ruby as a creature of the dark, of smoky, neon-lit walkups, back-alley brawls, and shady financial deals. But for nearly three years during the height of the Second World War, Jacob Rubenstein proudly wore the olive drab uniform of the United States Army Air Forces. Stationed at various air bases across the American South, Private First Class Rubenstein served with an unblemished record as a highly skilled aircraft mechanic. In the military, Jacob found something he had been chasing his entire life: structure, respect, and a patriotic cause far bigger than himself.
Yet, you cannot take the Chicago streets out of the soldier. In the barracks, the classic Jack Ruby contradictions and side hustles quickly emerged. He was a fastidious clean-freak who detested dirty work, yet forced himself to dive into the greasiest engine blocks just to prove to his younger bunkmates that he wasn't lazy. To keep his pockets lined, he set up a highly lucrative unofficial retail operation straight out of his bunk—shipping in boxes of commercial punchboards and premium chocolates from Chicago to sell to a bored, captive audience of soldiers, while dominating late-night barracks card and dice games.
But the cool, professional exterior of Private Rubenstein had a deadly serious boundary. Fiercely and pathologically sensitive to his Jewish identity, Jacob was a powder keg waiting for a match. When an active-duty sergeant hurled a vile anti-semitic slur at him, Jacob instantly lunged, ignoring the strict military code, court-martial threats, and potential hard labor. He beat the sergeant mercilessly with his bare fists, drawing blood to defend his name. It was a staggering act of insubordination that was surprisingly swept under the rug, leaving his pristine conduct record intact.
This episode closes with a deeply emotional, chillingly prophetic moment in April 1945. When the devastating news of President Franklin D. Roosevelt's death reached the base, Jacob broke down completely, sobbing hysterically in deep, inconsolable grief. While his fellow soldiers looked on in bewilderment at his raw, bizarre emotional breakdown, this intense, weeping grief for a fallen president would serve as a haunting, terrifying echo of the manic sorrow that would overtake Jack Ruby eighteen years later in Dallas.
