Friends of ours: Victor Riccitelli
Federal prosecutors said Wednesday that they had every right to release transcripts of a Bridgeport mobster's incriminating conversations about the Mafia last month, rejecting the mobster's claim that they were trying to embarrass him. Victor Riccitelli, 72, who faces sentencing for racketeering Friday, broke the mob's honor code in October, admitting his Mafia membership and pleading guilty rather than have secret FBI tapes played in court.
Prosecutors surprised Riccitelli in December, however, when they included details of his conversations in a memo placed in the public court file. The conversations included descriptions of the Mafia induction ceremony and the mob's leadership structure.
Riccitelli accused prosecutors of intentionally embarrassing him and asked a judge to dismiss the case. Prosecutors rejected that argument Wednesday, saying they were just trying to prove that Riccitelli lied under oath when he said his conversations about the Mafia were just things he had read in a book. If the judge wants more evidence, prosecutors said, they're happy to play the secret recordings in open court and discuss them then.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Joey's a load of laughs ... or buckshot
Friends of ours: Joey "The Clown" Lombardo, Frank "the German" Schweihs, Paul Schiro
Friends of mine: William Hanhardt, Chris Spina
It must be difficult to tell jokes while you're wearing leg irons and an orange federal jumpsuit, facing the possibility you could spend the rest of your life sharing prison space with some Colombian drug dealer, a blue tattoo covering half his face. But Joey "The Clown" Lombardo, 77, couldn't help but be amusing in federal court Tuesday after spending nine months as a fugitive from the FBI until his arrest late last week.
He pleaded not-guilty to a charge of conspiring in the 1974 shotgun murder of government witness Daniel Seifert. Then U.S. District Judge James Zagel asked Lombardo if a doctor had examined him. "I didn't see my doctor since nine months ago," said Lombardo. "I was--what do they call it? I was unavailable."
That got laughs. Even Zagel smiled. The criminal defense lawyers representing other Outfit figures in the federal government's Operation Family Secrets prosecution laughed too. One of them slapped Lombardo hard on the back.
Though he's pushing 80, Lombardo's runty and bandy legged in his jumpsuit, suggesting he had an active youth. His pantlegs are short, the cuffs rolled up several times, and he leaned on one foot, then the other, the leg irons connecting his ankles. And though he was joking and polite and cast as a colorful rogue, you could see something in him still.
You could see it in his back and in the way he folded his fingers together and held the hands up to his face while the judge was speaking, how he rubbed his lips with his thumbs, listening, eyes moving quickly in his head. Here's what you could see: You could still see the ape in the man.
We asked Jack O'Rourke, a former FBI agent, what was so scary about the Clown. Jack was polite but sounded as if he thought it was a silly question. What was so scary about Lombardo? "Well, he had absolute power and he could get you killed, that's basically it," O'Rourke said.
I've heard that sometimes, if Lombardo's really in a clowning mood, he'll take a photograph of himself and cut his own head off, then stick his photograph head onto another picture, perhaps some gorgeous supermodel in a calendar or an athlete on a poster. That's funny, isn't it? Or he'll point to a fish on the wall, some bass that got caught and mounted, and he'll say, "Hey, he wouldn't get caught if he didn't open his mouth." That's funny too.
One of my favorite Lombardo jokes took place after he had served time in prison for conspiring to bribe U.S. Sen. Howard Cannon (D-Nev.) and another conviction for plotting to skim $2 million from a Las Vegas casino. In 1992 he took an ad in the Tribune and other papers saying he wasn't a mobster anymore:"If anyone hears my name used in connection with criminal activity, please notify the FBI, local police, and my parole officer, Ron Kumke."
At that time, he was being driven around town on the taxpayer's dime by a $30 per hour city Streets and San foreman, Chris Spina. Chris, or Christy, had a trucking company, Spingee Trucking, and that firm received contracts in the mayor's Hired Truck program, and Spina's trucks may even have had engines. Former City Inspector General Alexander Vroustouris made all of this public in 1993 and tried to get Spina fired. But that's not the funny part.
The funny part is that after Vroustouris moved to fire him, and exposed the trucks and the Lombardo connection, the Illinois Appellate Court reinstated Spina and he got a raise, and Spina only recently retired with a full city pension. So Spina didn't get fired. It was Vroustouris who got fired later.
Then there was the time five years ago that I went looking for Lombardo at a nice little restaurant on Grand Avenue with my first legman, named Slim the Legman.
We were there to ask Lombardo about William Hanhardt, the former chief of detectives for the Chicago Police Department, who was just indicted and who would later plead guilty to running an Outfit-sanctioned jewelry theft ring.
One of Hanhardt's partners in the ring, Paul Schiro, has been indicted in the Operation Family Secrets case that has also indicted Lombardo, reputed hit man Frank "The German" Schweihs and others.
Lombardo was in the restaurant, and he had a gold St. Christopher medallion around his neck.
Sitting with Slim, I took out my notebook and tape recorder, to let Lombardo know I was coming over. He snapped his fingers and bus boys ran over to shovel his food into takeout containers. Then he left.
I asked the manger why Lombardo left so quickly. The manager said it wasn't Lombardo.
"No. That was Mr. Irwin Goldman. I think it was, yeah, Mr. Goldman," he said.
Irwin Goldman wearing a St. Christopher medallion? Are you kidding?
"You're funny," the manager said. "That's funny."
But I'm not the funny one. I keep hearing how Lombardo is funny. I'm sure he's a riot.
I'm just wondering how funny he'd be with a shotgun in his hands.
Thanks to John Kass
Friends of mine: William Hanhardt, Chris Spina
It must be difficult to tell jokes while you're wearing leg irons and an orange federal jumpsuit, facing the possibility you could spend the rest of your life sharing prison space with some Colombian drug dealer, a blue tattoo covering half his face. But Joey "The Clown" Lombardo, 77, couldn't help but be amusing in federal court Tuesday after spending nine months as a fugitive from the FBI until his arrest late last week.
He pleaded not-guilty to a charge of conspiring in the 1974 shotgun murder of government witness Daniel Seifert. Then U.S. District Judge James Zagel asked Lombardo if a doctor had examined him. "I didn't see my doctor since nine months ago," said Lombardo. "I was--what do they call it? I was unavailable."
That got laughs. Even Zagel smiled. The criminal defense lawyers representing other Outfit figures in the federal government's Operation Family Secrets prosecution laughed too. One of them slapped Lombardo hard on the back.
Though he's pushing 80, Lombardo's runty and bandy legged in his jumpsuit, suggesting he had an active youth. His pantlegs are short, the cuffs rolled up several times, and he leaned on one foot, then the other, the leg irons connecting his ankles. And though he was joking and polite and cast as a colorful rogue, you could see something in him still.
You could see it in his back and in the way he folded his fingers together and held the hands up to his face while the judge was speaking, how he rubbed his lips with his thumbs, listening, eyes moving quickly in his head. Here's what you could see: You could still see the ape in the man.
We asked Jack O'Rourke, a former FBI agent, what was so scary about the Clown. Jack was polite but sounded as if he thought it was a silly question. What was so scary about Lombardo? "Well, he had absolute power and he could get you killed, that's basically it," O'Rourke said.
I've heard that sometimes, if Lombardo's really in a clowning mood, he'll take a photograph of himself and cut his own head off, then stick his photograph head onto another picture, perhaps some gorgeous supermodel in a calendar or an athlete on a poster. That's funny, isn't it? Or he'll point to a fish on the wall, some bass that got caught and mounted, and he'll say, "Hey, he wouldn't get caught if he didn't open his mouth." That's funny too.
One of my favorite Lombardo jokes took place after he had served time in prison for conspiring to bribe U.S. Sen. Howard Cannon (D-Nev.) and another conviction for plotting to skim $2 million from a Las Vegas casino. In 1992 he took an ad in the Tribune and other papers saying he wasn't a mobster anymore:"If anyone hears my name used in connection with criminal activity, please notify the FBI, local police, and my parole officer, Ron Kumke."
At that time, he was being driven around town on the taxpayer's dime by a $30 per hour city Streets and San foreman, Chris Spina. Chris, or Christy, had a trucking company, Spingee Trucking, and that firm received contracts in the mayor's Hired Truck program, and Spina's trucks may even have had engines. Former City Inspector General Alexander Vroustouris made all of this public in 1993 and tried to get Spina fired. But that's not the funny part.
The funny part is that after Vroustouris moved to fire him, and exposed the trucks and the Lombardo connection, the Illinois Appellate Court reinstated Spina and he got a raise, and Spina only recently retired with a full city pension. So Spina didn't get fired. It was Vroustouris who got fired later.
Then there was the time five years ago that I went looking for Lombardo at a nice little restaurant on Grand Avenue with my first legman, named Slim the Legman.
We were there to ask Lombardo about William Hanhardt, the former chief of detectives for the Chicago Police Department, who was just indicted and who would later plead guilty to running an Outfit-sanctioned jewelry theft ring.
One of Hanhardt's partners in the ring, Paul Schiro, has been indicted in the Operation Family Secrets case that has also indicted Lombardo, reputed hit man Frank "The German" Schweihs and others.
Lombardo was in the restaurant, and he had a gold St. Christopher medallion around his neck.
Sitting with Slim, I took out my notebook and tape recorder, to let Lombardo know I was coming over. He snapped his fingers and bus boys ran over to shovel his food into takeout containers. Then he left.
I asked the manger why Lombardo left so quickly. The manager said it wasn't Lombardo.
"No. That was Mr. Irwin Goldman. I think it was, yeah, Mr. Goldman," he said.
Irwin Goldman wearing a St. Christopher medallion? Are you kidding?
"You're funny," the manager said. "That's funny."
But I'm not the funny one. I keep hearing how Lombardo is funny. I'm sure he's a riot.
I'm just wondering how funny he'd be with a shotgun in his hands.
Thanks to John Kass
Joey the Clown turns court into a media circus
Friends of ours: Joey "The Clown" Lombardo, Frank Calabrese Sr., Jimmy "The Man" Marcello, Vincent "Jimmy Boy" Mosccio, Guido Cicero Pelini, Al Capone
The joint was jumping and it was all for Joey. I got to federal court early Tuesday knowing there would be a crowd. Within minutes, in came my Sun-Times colleague Mark Brown, a raft of other newspaper reporters, followed by the Associated Press, WBBM's Newsradio 780, three courtroom artists and every TV station in town. We had all come to get a good look at the notorious Chicago mob kingpin who had outwitted the FBI for nine embarrassing months.
When he was finally grabbed by a team of agents in an alley in Elmwood Park on Friday night, Joey "The Clown" Lombardo sported long hair and bushy beard. This infamous federal fugitive looked like a cross between Howard Hughes and one of the Smith Brothers of cough drop fame. But by the time The Clown was escorted into court Tuesday morning, his beard had been shaved and his hair had been cropped by a prison barber. But that wasn't what was so striking.
Joey "The Clown" Lombardo is tiny. A little chunky around the midsection perhaps but a tiny man nonetheless. At 77, dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit and leg irons, he shuffled into court appearing almost dazed or bewildered. He wore a goofy little smile as he promised U.S. District Court Judge James Zagel that he would tell him "nuttin' but the truth." And got a laugh from the gallery when Zagel asked had he seen a doctor recently. "I was supposed to see him nine months ago," said The Clown, "but I was, ah, what do they call it, I was unavailable."
It was nine months ago the feds indicted Lombardo and 13 others in the landmark "Family Secrets" case that spans more than 40 years and encompasses 18 old, cold, mob murder cases as well as gambling, extortion, conspiracy and racketeering.
Right now, a number of the defendants are being held in the federal lockup downtown but are not allowed to see or talk to one another. Joe Lopez, attorney for the imprisoned defendant Frank Calabrese Sr., complained to Zagel that such isolation is a hardship for the men because they "can't go to church together or the law library together."
Lombardo's attorney, Rich Halprin, wasn't about to join Lopez in any effort to reunite the boys behind bars. "Joey has stated on the record he doesn't know the other defendants," Halprin said. Of course not.
The Clown, by the way, is broke. Busted with about $3,000 in cash, beyond that the cupboard is allegedly bare and so Lombardo is asking the judge to appoint Halprin as his federal public defender. Anybody who thinks Lombardo isn't smart doesn't know what they're talking about. And they haven't watched him as he whispers in his lawyer's ear. Then and only then do you see his eyes harden and narrow. And his bewildered "Gosh, I'm just not sure what's going on" demeanor replaced by an ice-cold intensity.
In all, I counted 11 defense attorneys crowding around the judge Tuesday. Like Halprin, many of them are well-known in their own right, expensive and experienced when it comes to not answering reporter's questions. Longtime attorney Arthur Nasser comes to mind. Who of the defendants, I asked him Tuesday, is the boss of the Chicago Outfit? Is Joey "The Clown" running it or, say, Jimmy "The Man" Marcello, another of the defendants? "I don't know what you mean by 'running it'?" Nasser deadpanned.
The last time I talked to Nasser was in 1994. I had just dropped by the Forest Park home of another of his clients, Vincent "Jimmy Boy" Mosccio, to ask if he would do an interview. Jimmy Boy was in his late 60s. He and a partner, Guido Cicero Pelini, who was 70-something, were reputed to be "The Pineapple Bandits." That is to say, they dealt in large quantities of merchandise known as "stuff that falls off the truck." These elderly mob cartage thieves managed to make off with about $7 million in cases of Mr. Muscle Oven Cleaner, Drano, and Dole Pineapple. Hence, "The Pineapple Bandits."
While I sat in Mosccio's living room, he dialed his attorney, Mr. Nasser, to advise him of my visit which, after that call, abruptly ended. It wasn't too long after that that Mosccio and Pelini went off to federal prison.
I recount this little tale as just one, small example of how old mobsters don't retire. And from the days of Al Capone to the present, nobody, not Eliot Ness, not even U.S. Attorney Patrick Fitzgerald, has put them out of business. At least, not yet.
Thanks to Carol Marin
The joint was jumping and it was all for Joey. I got to federal court early Tuesday knowing there would be a crowd. Within minutes, in came my Sun-Times colleague Mark Brown, a raft of other newspaper reporters, followed by the Associated Press, WBBM's Newsradio 780, three courtroom artists and every TV station in town. We had all come to get a good look at the notorious Chicago mob kingpin who had outwitted the FBI for nine embarrassing months.
When he was finally grabbed by a team of agents in an alley in Elmwood Park on Friday night, Joey "The Clown" Lombardo sported long hair and bushy beard. This infamous federal fugitive looked like a cross between Howard Hughes and one of the Smith Brothers of cough drop fame. But by the time The Clown was escorted into court Tuesday morning, his beard had been shaved and his hair had been cropped by a prison barber. But that wasn't what was so striking.
Joey "The Clown" Lombardo is tiny. A little chunky around the midsection perhaps but a tiny man nonetheless. At 77, dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit and leg irons, he shuffled into court appearing almost dazed or bewildered. He wore a goofy little smile as he promised U.S. District Court Judge James Zagel that he would tell him "nuttin' but the truth." And got a laugh from the gallery when Zagel asked had he seen a doctor recently. "I was supposed to see him nine months ago," said The Clown, "but I was, ah, what do they call it, I was unavailable."
It was nine months ago the feds indicted Lombardo and 13 others in the landmark "Family Secrets" case that spans more than 40 years and encompasses 18 old, cold, mob murder cases as well as gambling, extortion, conspiracy and racketeering.
Right now, a number of the defendants are being held in the federal lockup downtown but are not allowed to see or talk to one another. Joe Lopez, attorney for the imprisoned defendant Frank Calabrese Sr., complained to Zagel that such isolation is a hardship for the men because they "can't go to church together or the law library together."
Lombardo's attorney, Rich Halprin, wasn't about to join Lopez in any effort to reunite the boys behind bars. "Joey has stated on the record he doesn't know the other defendants," Halprin said. Of course not.
The Clown, by the way, is broke. Busted with about $3,000 in cash, beyond that the cupboard is allegedly bare and so Lombardo is asking the judge to appoint Halprin as his federal public defender. Anybody who thinks Lombardo isn't smart doesn't know what they're talking about. And they haven't watched him as he whispers in his lawyer's ear. Then and only then do you see his eyes harden and narrow. And his bewildered "Gosh, I'm just not sure what's going on" demeanor replaced by an ice-cold intensity.
In all, I counted 11 defense attorneys crowding around the judge Tuesday. Like Halprin, many of them are well-known in their own right, expensive and experienced when it comes to not answering reporter's questions. Longtime attorney Arthur Nasser comes to mind. Who of the defendants, I asked him Tuesday, is the boss of the Chicago Outfit? Is Joey "The Clown" running it or, say, Jimmy "The Man" Marcello, another of the defendants? "I don't know what you mean by 'running it'?" Nasser deadpanned.
The last time I talked to Nasser was in 1994. I had just dropped by the Forest Park home of another of his clients, Vincent "Jimmy Boy" Mosccio, to ask if he would do an interview. Jimmy Boy was in his late 60s. He and a partner, Guido Cicero Pelini, who was 70-something, were reputed to be "The Pineapple Bandits." That is to say, they dealt in large quantities of merchandise known as "stuff that falls off the truck." These elderly mob cartage thieves managed to make off with about $7 million in cases of Mr. Muscle Oven Cleaner, Drano, and Dole Pineapple. Hence, "The Pineapple Bandits."
While I sat in Mosccio's living room, he dialed his attorney, Mr. Nasser, to advise him of my visit which, after that call, abruptly ended. It wasn't too long after that that Mosccio and Pelini went off to federal prison.
I recount this little tale as just one, small example of how old mobsters don't retire. And from the days of Al Capone to the present, nobody, not Eliot Ness, not even U.S. Attorney Patrick Fitzgerald, has put them out of business. At least, not yet.
Thanks to Carol Marin
Lombardo looks like a new man - but he's still The Clown
Friends of ours: Joey "The Clown" Lombardo
One picture would probably be worth more to you than the 800 words to follow. Even if I wrote an extra 200 words to make it an even thousand, that wouldn't solve the problem. You want to know what reputed mobster Joey "The Clown" Lombardo looks like these days, and I'm no substitute for the work of a photographer. But cameras aren't allowed in federal courtrooms, and it was the chance to see him for myself that drew me to the Dirksen Federal Building on Tuesday morning. So let me first report that, no, Lombardo doesn't look anything like that photo they snapped of him in a federal lockup after his Friday night arrest.
The unkempt gray beard and whiskers that he grew during nine months on the lam have already been shaved clean, revealing a 77-year-old man who looks much more like the character who once famously hid his face behind a copy of the Sun-Times that he'd doctored with an eyehole cutout.
Lombardo's full head of hair is still dark and bushy. He's got the same short, muscular build, the short sleeves of his orange prison jumpsuit revealing forearms that are still formidable.
The eyeglasses have changed. Lombardo's got wire frames to replace the big lenses that always look so 1970s in the few photos and videotapes that are available from his heyday in the upper echelon of Chicago organized crime.
"The Clown" had proved elusive long before he went underground as the feds came calling last April with an arrest warrant. (And I must add that I don't see any resemblance to the guy on the bicycle, you remember, the poor mope from Lombardo's Grand Avenue neighborhood who our friends at Brand X mistakenly identified on the front page as an accused mobster.)
As long as we're relying on your imagination, forget Friday's Saddam Hussein look-alike photo altogether and conjure up one of those images of Lombardo from the early 1980s, then mentally run him through one of those computer programs that adds age lines, wrinkles and jowls. But keep one other feature: that mischievous twinkle in the corner of his eyes that always helped explain how somebody with a reputation as a stone-cold killer could have his particular nickname.
Lombardo clowned around just a little Tuesday with U.S. District Judge James Zagel, who had asked about Lombardo's health and whether he'd seen his doctor as part of the routine inquiry before taking his initial "not guilty" plea. "I was supposed to see him nine months ago, but I was, ah, what do they call it - I was unavailable," Lombardo said with a smile.
That was the only time Lombardo intentionally drew a laugh, although much of the audience also got a chuckle when he was sworn in and promised to tell "nuttin but da troot."
Lombardo gave several indications that he was having trouble hearing Zagel, leaning in closer and turning his head when the judge was speaking.
He also peered quizically around the courtroom at the spectators in the gallery and at the lawyers of his many co-defendants. But Lombardo attorney Rick Halprin said his client was neither confused nor agitated when I suggested otherwise in a question.
Halprin said Lombardo just didn't recognize all the lawyers for his alleged co-conspirators, who by coincidence were scheduled to appear in court Tuesday for a regular status hearing. Halprin said Lombardo denies knowing all but one of his mob co-defendants, too.
I liked the fact that the FBI caught up to Lombardo in Elmwood Park, which is close to my home turf. The agents haven't given us any details on how long Lombardo had been in Elmwood Park, let alone how he passed the time, but I like to picture him slipping into the back room at Gene's Deli for lunch or sending his buddy to Johnnie's for a beef sandwich, except for Friday's when he'd get pepper 'n egg. Or maybe Lombardo would visit Caputo's on Harlem early in the morning to shop for his own groceries, and if anybody recognized him, they'd just wink.
If he wanted to come downtown, he'd just ride Metra, nobody being in the habit of looking for mob fugitives sitting across from them on the train.
I don't mean for the tone of this to minimize Lombardo's alleged crimes - which haven't exactly been spelled out with much specificity to this point - although I expect that to resolve itself now that he's in custody. (He must be forgetting about the murder charges against him.)
As he left the courtroom, Lombardo was engaging in some sort of banter with the federal agents who would escort him back to jail. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but they were smiling.
Thanks to Mark Brown
One picture would probably be worth more to you than the 800 words to follow. Even if I wrote an extra 200 words to make it an even thousand, that wouldn't solve the problem. You want to know what reputed mobster Joey "The Clown" Lombardo looks like these days, and I'm no substitute for the work of a photographer. But cameras aren't allowed in federal courtrooms, and it was the chance to see him for myself that drew me to the Dirksen Federal Building on Tuesday morning. So let me first report that, no, Lombardo doesn't look anything like that photo they snapped of him in a federal lockup after his Friday night arrest.
The unkempt gray beard and whiskers that he grew during nine months on the lam have already been shaved clean, revealing a 77-year-old man who looks much more like the character who once famously hid his face behind a copy of the Sun-Times that he'd doctored with an eyehole cutout.
Lombardo's full head of hair is still dark and bushy. He's got the same short, muscular build, the short sleeves of his orange prison jumpsuit revealing forearms that are still formidable.
The eyeglasses have changed. Lombardo's got wire frames to replace the big lenses that always look so 1970s in the few photos and videotapes that are available from his heyday in the upper echelon of Chicago organized crime.
"The Clown" had proved elusive long before he went underground as the feds came calling last April with an arrest warrant. (And I must add that I don't see any resemblance to the guy on the bicycle, you remember, the poor mope from Lombardo's Grand Avenue neighborhood who our friends at Brand X mistakenly identified on the front page as an accused mobster.)
As long as we're relying on your imagination, forget Friday's Saddam Hussein look-alike photo altogether and conjure up one of those images of Lombardo from the early 1980s, then mentally run him through one of those computer programs that adds age lines, wrinkles and jowls. But keep one other feature: that mischievous twinkle in the corner of his eyes that always helped explain how somebody with a reputation as a stone-cold killer could have his particular nickname.
Lombardo clowned around just a little Tuesday with U.S. District Judge James Zagel, who had asked about Lombardo's health and whether he'd seen his doctor as part of the routine inquiry before taking his initial "not guilty" plea. "I was supposed to see him nine months ago, but I was, ah, what do they call it - I was unavailable," Lombardo said with a smile.
That was the only time Lombardo intentionally drew a laugh, although much of the audience also got a chuckle when he was sworn in and promised to tell "nuttin but da troot."
Lombardo gave several indications that he was having trouble hearing Zagel, leaning in closer and turning his head when the judge was speaking.
He also peered quizically around the courtroom at the spectators in the gallery and at the lawyers of his many co-defendants. But Lombardo attorney Rick Halprin said his client was neither confused nor agitated when I suggested otherwise in a question.
Halprin said Lombardo just didn't recognize all the lawyers for his alleged co-conspirators, who by coincidence were scheduled to appear in court Tuesday for a regular status hearing. Halprin said Lombardo denies knowing all but one of his mob co-defendants, too.
I liked the fact that the FBI caught up to Lombardo in Elmwood Park, which is close to my home turf. The agents haven't given us any details on how long Lombardo had been in Elmwood Park, let alone how he passed the time, but I like to picture him slipping into the back room at Gene's Deli for lunch or sending his buddy to Johnnie's for a beef sandwich, except for Friday's when he'd get pepper 'n egg. Or maybe Lombardo would visit Caputo's on Harlem early in the morning to shop for his own groceries, and if anybody recognized him, they'd just wink.
If he wanted to come downtown, he'd just ride Metra, nobody being in the habit of looking for mob fugitives sitting across from them on the train.
I don't mean for the tone of this to minimize Lombardo's alleged crimes - which haven't exactly been spelled out with much specificity to this point - although I expect that to resolve itself now that he's in custody. (He must be forgetting about the murder charges against him.)
As he left the courtroom, Lombardo was engaging in some sort of banter with the federal agents who would escort him back to jail. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but they were smiling.
Thanks to Mark Brown
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Supreme Court Rejects Mobster's Appeal
Friends of ours: Philip "Crazy Phil" Leonetti, Nicodemo "Little Nicky" Scarfo
Friends of mine: Leonard Pelullo
The Supreme Court refused Tuesday to decide whether defendants should get new trials when prosecutors withhold evidence. The court rebuffed an appeal by a reputed mob associate convicted of looting a small New Jersey printing company's pension fund.
In the 1990s, Leonard Pelullo, a Miami businessman, was investigated by federal authorities in Florida, New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Federal officials raided a large warehouse in Miami, where they seized 904 boxes, 114 file cabinets and 10 file drawers containing documents from Pelullo's 25 companies. Before his trial, prosecutors insisted they had not found any documents that would have helped Pelullo's defense to the New Jersey charges.
He was convicted and sentenced to 17 1/2 years in prison in 1997 for siphoning $4.2 million from Compton Press' pension and retirement funds after he took control of the firm and put it out of business. Pelullo's lawyers later discovered what a federal judge described as "a mass" of evidence that could have helped Pelullo contradict several government witnesses. The judge ordered a new trial for Pelullo. But the Philadelphia-based 3rd Circuit U.S. Court of Appeals reversed, saying prosecutors had given Pelullo and his lawyers numerous chances to review the documents. The appellate court also said Pelullo should've know what was in the records because they were his.
Pelullo also was convicted in Philadelphia on fraud and racketeering charges. Mob informant Philip "Crazy Phil" Leonetti, a former underboss of the Philadelphia Mafia, testified in that case that Pelullo was an associate of his uncle, convicted mob boss Nicodemo "Little Nicky" Scarfo.
Friends of mine: Leonard Pelullo
The Supreme Court refused Tuesday to decide whether defendants should get new trials when prosecutors withhold evidence. The court rebuffed an appeal by a reputed mob associate convicted of looting a small New Jersey printing company's pension fund.
In the 1990s, Leonard Pelullo, a Miami businessman, was investigated by federal authorities in Florida, New Jersey and Pennsylvania. Federal officials raided a large warehouse in Miami, where they seized 904 boxes, 114 file cabinets and 10 file drawers containing documents from Pelullo's 25 companies. Before his trial, prosecutors insisted they had not found any documents that would have helped Pelullo's defense to the New Jersey charges.
He was convicted and sentenced to 17 1/2 years in prison in 1997 for siphoning $4.2 million from Compton Press' pension and retirement funds after he took control of the firm and put it out of business. Pelullo's lawyers later discovered what a federal judge described as "a mass" of evidence that could have helped Pelullo contradict several government witnesses. The judge ordered a new trial for Pelullo. But the Philadelphia-based 3rd Circuit U.S. Court of Appeals reversed, saying prosecutors had given Pelullo and his lawyers numerous chances to review the documents. The appellate court also said Pelullo should've know what was in the records because they were his.
Pelullo also was convicted in Philadelphia on fraud and racketeering charges. Mob informant Philip "Crazy Phil" Leonetti, a former underboss of the Philadelphia Mafia, testified in that case that Pelullo was an associate of his uncle, convicted mob boss Nicodemo "Little Nicky" Scarfo.
Joseph "Joey The Clown" Lombardo
Joseph "Joey The Clown" Lombardo 
is an American mafioso and high ranking member of the Chicago Outfit.
Born in 1929 Lombardo joined the Chicago Outfit in the 1950s. In 1963 Lombardo was arrested and charged with kidnapping however he was later acquitted. Lombardo was again on trial in 1974 with Allen Dorfman, an insurance agent, and charged with embezzling of $1.4 million from pension funds of the Teamsters Union. The charges were later dropped after the main witness, Daniel Siefert, was killed two days before his scheduled appearance.
In 1982 Lombardo and Dorfman were again charged with extortion of $800,000 from construction owner Robert Kendler as well as, with Teamsters President Roy L. Williams, attempted bribery of Nevada Senator Howard W. Cannon.
Lombardo was later implicated, by government informant Alva Johnson Rodgers, in the deaths of Daniel Siefert and Robert Harder in 1974, Sam Annerino and Raymond Ryan in 1977, and Allen Dorfman in 1983. Lombardo was also accused of personally murdering ex-police officer Richard Cain. Interestingly, Cain was believed to be a CIA agent as well.
Lombardo and Williams were finally convicted of attempted bribery in August 1985 and sentenced to 15 years imprisonment. Williams, who received 10 years imprisonment, later agreed to testify against Lombardo and several top members of the Chicago Outfit later charged with concealing Mafiosi ownership of the Las Vegas Stardust Resort & Casino of which over $2 million unreported income was skimmed from 1974-1978. By January 1986 five mobsters had been convicted, including Lombardo who was sentenced to an additional 10 years, as well as Chicago syndicate leaders Joey Aiuppa and John Phillip Cerone, sentenced to 28 years imprisonment, and Angelo Lapeer, and Milton Rockman.
When he was paroled from prison in 1992, Lombardo ran an ad in the Chicago Tribue that said:
On April 27, 2005 indictments were handed down in which 14 people including Lombardo and Frank "The German" Schweihs were named in the murders of 18 people. Despite being in his late 70s, Lombardo avoided capture. During his time as a fugitive, he wrote two letters to his lawyer, one claiming innocence in the charges brought against him, the other not yet made public. He was finally captured by FBI agents in Elmwood Park, Illinois on January 13, 2006.
is an American mafioso and high ranking member of the Chicago Outfit.Born in 1929 Lombardo joined the Chicago Outfit in the 1950s. In 1963 Lombardo was arrested and charged with kidnapping however he was later acquitted. Lombardo was again on trial in 1974 with Allen Dorfman, an insurance agent, and charged with embezzling of $1.4 million from pension funds of the Teamsters Union. The charges were later dropped after the main witness, Daniel Siefert, was killed two days before his scheduled appearance.
In 1982 Lombardo and Dorfman were again charged with extortion of $800,000 from construction owner Robert Kendler as well as, with Teamsters President Roy L. Williams, attempted bribery of Nevada Senator Howard W. Cannon.
Lombardo was later implicated, by government informant Alva Johnson Rodgers, in the deaths of Daniel Siefert and Robert Harder in 1974, Sam Annerino and Raymond Ryan in 1977, and Allen Dorfman in 1983. Lombardo was also accused of personally murdering ex-police officer Richard Cain. Interestingly, Cain was believed to be a CIA agent as well.
Lombardo and Williams were finally convicted of attempted bribery in August 1985 and sentenced to 15 years imprisonment. Williams, who received 10 years imprisonment, later agreed to testify against Lombardo and several top members of the Chicago Outfit later charged with concealing Mafiosi ownership of the Las Vegas Stardust Resort & Casino of which over $2 million unreported income was skimmed from 1974-1978. By January 1986 five mobsters had been convicted, including Lombardo who was sentenced to an additional 10 years, as well as Chicago syndicate leaders Joey Aiuppa and John Phillip Cerone, sentenced to 28 years imprisonment, and Angelo Lapeer, and Milton Rockman.
When he was paroled from prison in 1992, Lombardo ran an ad in the Chicago Tribue that said:
I am Joe Lombardo, I have been released on parole from federal prison. I never took a secret oath with guns and daggars, pricked my finger, drew blood, or burned paper to join a criminal organization. If anyone hears my name used in conjuction with any criminal activity, please notify the FBI and my parole officer, Ron Kumke
On April 27, 2005 indictments were handed down in which 14 people including Lombardo and Frank "The German" Schweihs were named in the murders of 18 people. Despite being in his late 70s, Lombardo avoided capture. During his time as a fugitive, he wrote two letters to his lawyer, one claiming innocence in the charges brought against him, the other not yet made public. He was finally captured by FBI agents in Elmwood Park, Illinois on January 13, 2006.
Lombardo Clowns around in Court
Friends of ours: Joey "the Clown" Lombardo, Frank "The German" Schweihs, Tony "The Ant" Spilotro, Frank Calabrese Sr., James "Little Jimmy" Marcello
After nine months in hiding, a clean-shaven Joey "the Clown" Lombardo appeared in federal court Tuesday wearing leg irons and offering wisecracks about his time on the lam. The reputed mob boss, who was captured Friday in Elmwood Park, pleaded not guilty to racketeering conspiracy that includes accusations of murder and extortion.
Asked if he had seen a physician recently, Lombardo's response to the judge to U.S. District Judge James Zagel was true to his nickname. "I didn't see my doctor since nine months ago. I was - what do they call it? I was unavailable," he said. Meanwhile, Lombardo's attorney, Rick Halprin, requested, meanwhile, that the court appoint him to represent Lombardo because the reputed Outfit kingpin doesn't have the means to pay for his own attorney, he said. "He's been living off Social Security for years," Halprin said in an interview.
A former federal agent who investigated Lombardo expressed doubt about that. "That's another ruse - that's Joey the Clown. The guy was definitely making big-time bucks when he was still active," said Lee Flosi, a former FBI agent who supervised the organized crime task force in the early 1990s. Lombardo was part of the "ruling group" of Chicago's mob, Flosi said. "As far as being the boss, I don't think that was ever settled," he said.
Halprin said that during Lombardo's many years on parole for previous convictions, he has filed financial affidavits swearing he is on a fixed income. "He lived in a basement," Halprin said, referring to Lombardo's West Ohio Street home, not his location while on the lam.
Lombardo, 77, was dressed in the a standard orange jumpsuit of issued to federal jail inmates, Lombardo, 77, and had shaved a the thick beard he had grown while on the run. He joked in the courtroom lockup that the his fresh look was meant to impress a female deputy U.S. marshal assigned to guard him.
In court, Lombardo initially appeared confused, glancing around at lawyers for his 11 co-defendants, the packed gallery in the benches behind him, and the jury box filled with reporters. But despite some difficulty hearing questions put to him by U.S. District Judge James Zagel, Lombardo answered lucidly. (Does every reputed mobster lose their hearing?)
Lombardo is one of 14 men charged in a racketeering conspiracy that prosecutors allege involved 18 unsolved Outfit murders. Two of Lombardo's co-defendants have died, leaving 12 to face the charges. Along with Frank "the German" Schweihs, Lombardo is charged specifically with the 1974 slaying of Daniel Seifert, a Bensenville businessman who had been scheduled to testify against him and others in a Teamsters pension fraud case. Halprin has said that Lombardo was in a police station, reporting stolen property, when Seifert was killed.
Schweihs, who was captured in December after 8 months as being a fugitive for eight months, refused to appear in court Tuesday after pleading not guilty January 7. Zagel said he will force Schweihs to appear and a hearing is scheduled for Wednesday afternoon. For his part, Lombardo seemed in good spirits during the Tuesday's hearing. He raised his right hand and promised to tell "nothin' but the truth."
He told Zagel he is under care for hardening of the arteries but didn't offer a long list of health woes like some of his co-defendants. Apart from telling Zagel that he was a high school graduate, the rest of Lombardo's statements were limited to yes and or no answers responses.
A federal investigation dubbed "Operation Family Secrets" led to the arrests of Lombardo and other Outfit figures, including Frank Calabrese Sr. and James Marcello. Included among the murders allegedly connected to the defendants are the famed 1986 beating deaths of Tony and Michael Spilotro. Federal agents believe Tony Spilotro, a mob enforcer who ran the Outfit's operations in Las Vegas, was slain for drawing too much heat. (This is one of the few articles that does not mention that Joe Pesci played this role in the movie Casino. I thought I would add it so youse do not go into shock from not seeing that comment.)
In a letter Lombardo penned to Zagel while he was in hiding, the alleged mob boss denied any knowledge of about any of the 18 killings. "I was not privy before the murders, during the murders, and after the murders, and to this present writing to you," the letter stated.
The Chicago Crime Commission says the crimes are nothing to laugh about. "These are brutal people. They resort to killing, and especially the murder that Joe Lombardo is accused of doing in this indictment, was extremely brutal, inasmuch as the man was killed in front of his own family. He was going to be a witness against several defendants, including Joe Lombardo," said Jim Wagner, Chicago Crime Commission.
After nine months in hiding, a clean-shaven Joey "the Clown" Lombardo appeared in federal court Tuesday wearing leg irons and offering wisecracks about his time on the lam. The reputed mob boss, who was captured Friday in Elmwood Park, pleaded not guilty to racketeering conspiracy that includes accusations of murder and extortion.
Asked if he had seen a physician recently, Lombardo's response to the judge to U.S. District Judge James Zagel was true to his nickname. "I didn't see my doctor since nine months ago. I was - what do they call it? I was unavailable," he said. Meanwhile, Lombardo's attorney, Rick Halprin, requested, meanwhile, that the court appoint him to represent Lombardo because the reputed Outfit kingpin doesn't have the means to pay for his own attorney, he said. "He's been living off Social Security for years," Halprin said in an interview.
A former federal agent who investigated Lombardo expressed doubt about that. "That's another ruse - that's Joey the Clown. The guy was definitely making big-time bucks when he was still active," said Lee Flosi, a former FBI agent who supervised the organized crime task force in the early 1990s. Lombardo was part of the "ruling group" of Chicago's mob, Flosi said. "As far as being the boss, I don't think that was ever settled," he said.
Halprin said that during Lombardo's many years on parole for previous convictions, he has filed financial affidavits swearing he is on a fixed income. "He lived in a basement," Halprin said, referring to Lombardo's West Ohio Street home, not his location while on the lam.
Lombardo, 77, was dressed in the a standard orange jumpsuit of issued to federal jail inmates, Lombardo, 77, and had shaved a the thick beard he had grown while on the run. He joked in the courtroom lockup that the his fresh look was meant to impress a female deputy U.S. marshal assigned to guard him.
In court, Lombardo initially appeared confused, glancing around at lawyers for his 11 co-defendants, the packed gallery in the benches behind him, and the jury box filled with reporters. But despite some difficulty hearing questions put to him by U.S. District Judge James Zagel, Lombardo answered lucidly. (Does every reputed mobster lose their hearing?)
Lombardo is one of 14 men charged in a racketeering conspiracy that prosecutors allege involved 18 unsolved Outfit murders. Two of Lombardo's co-defendants have died, leaving 12 to face the charges. Along with Frank "the German" Schweihs, Lombardo is charged specifically with the 1974 slaying of Daniel Seifert, a Bensenville businessman who had been scheduled to testify against him and others in a Teamsters pension fraud case. Halprin has said that Lombardo was in a police station, reporting stolen property, when Seifert was killed.
Schweihs, who was captured in December after 8 months as being a fugitive for eight months, refused to appear in court Tuesday after pleading not guilty January 7. Zagel said he will force Schweihs to appear and a hearing is scheduled for Wednesday afternoon. For his part, Lombardo seemed in good spirits during the Tuesday's hearing. He raised his right hand and promised to tell "nothin' but the truth."
He told Zagel he is under care for hardening of the arteries but didn't offer a long list of health woes like some of his co-defendants. Apart from telling Zagel that he was a high school graduate, the rest of Lombardo's statements were limited to yes and or no answers responses.
A federal investigation dubbed "Operation Family Secrets" led to the arrests of Lombardo and other Outfit figures, including Frank Calabrese Sr. and James Marcello. Included among the murders allegedly connected to the defendants are the famed 1986 beating deaths of Tony and Michael Spilotro. Federal agents believe Tony Spilotro, a mob enforcer who ran the Outfit's operations in Las Vegas, was slain for drawing too much heat. (This is one of the few articles that does not mention that Joe Pesci played this role in the movie Casino. I thought I would add it so youse do not go into shock from not seeing that comment.)
In a letter Lombardo penned to Zagel while he was in hiding, the alleged mob boss denied any knowledge of about any of the 18 killings. "I was not privy before the murders, during the murders, and after the murders, and to this present writing to you," the letter stated.
The Chicago Crime Commission says the crimes are nothing to laugh about. "These are brutal people. They resort to killing, and especially the murder that Joe Lombardo is accused of doing in this indictment, was extremely brutal, inasmuch as the man was killed in front of his own family. He was going to be a witness against several defendants, including Joe Lombardo," said Jim Wagner, Chicago Crime Commission.
Lombardo May Still Head Chicago Mob
Friends of ours: Joey "the Clown" Lombardo
Joey Lombardo apparently was not clowning around while on the lam over the last several months. The feds picked up the mobster nicknamed ''the Clown'' over the weekend in west suburban Elmwood Park. As CBS 2's Mike Parker reports, Lombardo still appears to be calling the shots for the mob here.
CBS 2 News has learned that Lombardo is now being held at Chicago’s Metropolitan Correctional Center, in what authorities call "segregation." Lombardo is in a cell of his own and unable to mingle with the rest of the inmate population.
"It’s a constant fight between good and evil," said Jim McGough, organized crime expert. A veteran mob watcher and an expert in the outfit's infiltration of labor unions, McGough says he believes the feds want to protect Lombardo from his own kind. "To make sure he's not assassinated, killed because he does have secrets, which I don't expect him to reveal, but a dead witness for organized crime is a good witness," McGough said.
McGough says potential witnesses against Lombardo in his upcoming trial for more than a dozen unsolved mob murders are in more danger than "the Clown" himself. "One of the reasons Lombardo is going to be tried is for the murder of Daniel Seifert, who was going to be a witness against him in the teamsters’ pension scandal, and he was killed two days before his testimony," McGough said.
Crime experts believe Lombardo did not flee the country after his indictment because he is still a top man - perhaps the top man in the Chicago mob - and was making decisions while he was in hiding. "He knows who all the corrupt attorneys are or the corrupt judges or the corrupt politicians, where the money is, how to do this or that," McGough said.
Also Monday, the head of the Chicago crime commission said that for too long, TV and the movies have romanticized the mob. Former FBI Special Agent James Wagner believes that once Lombardo and his co-defendants go on trial, the public will be stunned by the brutal nature of their murders.
Lombardo’s lawyer said Tuesday’s bond hearing may be the shortest on record. He knows his client won't be released.
Joey Lombardo apparently was not clowning around while on the lam over the last several months. The feds picked up the mobster nicknamed ''the Clown'' over the weekend in west suburban Elmwood Park. As CBS 2's Mike Parker reports, Lombardo still appears to be calling the shots for the mob here.
CBS 2 News has learned that Lombardo is now being held at Chicago’s Metropolitan Correctional Center, in what authorities call "segregation." Lombardo is in a cell of his own and unable to mingle with the rest of the inmate population.
"It’s a constant fight between good and evil," said Jim McGough, organized crime expert. A veteran mob watcher and an expert in the outfit's infiltration of labor unions, McGough says he believes the feds want to protect Lombardo from his own kind. "To make sure he's not assassinated, killed because he does have secrets, which I don't expect him to reveal, but a dead witness for organized crime is a good witness," McGough said.
McGough says potential witnesses against Lombardo in his upcoming trial for more than a dozen unsolved mob murders are in more danger than "the Clown" himself. "One of the reasons Lombardo is going to be tried is for the murder of Daniel Seifert, who was going to be a witness against him in the teamsters’ pension scandal, and he was killed two days before his testimony," McGough said.
Crime experts believe Lombardo did not flee the country after his indictment because he is still a top man - perhaps the top man in the Chicago mob - and was making decisions while he was in hiding. "He knows who all the corrupt attorneys are or the corrupt judges or the corrupt politicians, where the money is, how to do this or that," McGough said.
Also Monday, the head of the Chicago crime commission said that for too long, TV and the movies have romanticized the mob. Former FBI Special Agent James Wagner believes that once Lombardo and his co-defendants go on trial, the public will be stunned by the brutal nature of their murders.
Lombardo’s lawyer said Tuesday’s bond hearing may be the shortest on record. He knows his client won't be released.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
FBI gets last laugh on 'The Clown'
Friends of ours: Joey "The Clown" Lombardo, Frank "The German" Schweihs
He put on considerable weight, grew a full white beard, let his hair grow long and likely never left the Chicago area. Joey "The Clown" Lombardo, a fugitive for nine months, looked more like Saddam Hussein than a reputed mob boss when FBI agents found him. But it wasn't just Lombardo's change in appearance that kept him hidden in the feds' own backyard.
Lombardo, 77, moved around the Chicago area often and likely used underworld connections to hide in so-called mob "spider holes" before he was arrested in Elmwood Park, FBI Special Agent in Charge Robert Grant said Saturday.
To hide his appearance, Joey "The Clown" Lombardo grew a full beard and longer hair. The 77-year-old reputed mob boss managed to skirt the feds for nine months in the Chicago area by continually moving from one so-called mob “spider hole” to the next, FBI Special Agent in Charge Robert Grant said Saturday. Lombardo told his prominent lawyer Rick Halprin he usually got around on foot. But the end of his run came Friday the 13th.
Lombardo was in the passenger seat of a 1994 silver Lincoln beside an elderly friend in an alley behind the friend's Elmwood Park home. About a dozen FBI agents descended on the two men as agents' cars blocked off the alley from all directions. "Both gentlemen were stunned," Grant said.
The FBI has been keeping known Lombardo associates under surveillance for the last nine months, Grant said. They began watching the man in Elmwood Park hoping to catch him with Lombardo - and they did, he said. Lombardo was carrying $3,000 cash, his attorney said. The feds said they also found business cards - they wouldn't say whose - and a suitcase stuffed with clothes. Lombardo was unarmed. Lombardo also carried his own driver's license, which listed him at his old Ohio Street address, Grant said.
The FBI did not arrest the other man, who is in his mid-80s and lives in the 2300 block of North 74th Avenue. Lombardo didn't resist arrest, but he wasn't compliant, either - refusing to exit the car at first, Grant said. Agents had to walk up to the car, open the door and ask him to get out. Then he did.
Grant said there are two schools of thought on fugitive lifestyles. One is to keep a distance from known associates. The other is to stick with people you trust. Lombardo took the second approach, Grant said. "Without a doubt, I think people assisted Mr. Lombardo in his efforts," Grant said. The investigation continues into who may have been "aiding and abetting" him, he said. The FBI has long believed Lombardo didn't stray far. In his time on the lam, he wrote letters to his attorney, and they carried local postmarks.
Lombardo was one of 14 people charged in a sweeping mob indictment last year, a result of the federal Operation Family Secrets investigation. Two of the charged have since died. The massive indictment ties 18 previously unsolved murders to the Chicago Outfit. But Lombardo and Frank "The German" Schweihs both fled before the government announced its charges April 25, 2005. Schweihs was found last month in Kentucky.
Lombardo's capture brings closure to questions that arose over how both managed to escape arrest last April, particularly Lombardo, who is considered the big fish in the case. Grant said Saturday the two knew the indictment was coming for some time. Lombardo had already been swabbed for DNA in 2003. The two prepared for their departure and left well before the charges were unsealed.
In a superseding indictment, Lombardo was specifically tied to the 1974 murder of Daniel Seifert in Bensenville. Seifert was preparing to testify against Lombardo and others in a pension fraud case when he was gunned down.
One reputed mob associate who has been following the news about Lombardo said Saturday that it's the end of an era with his arrest. "All of the old war horses are either dead or in jail or are pretty well close to being dead," said the man, who did not want to be identified. "In my opinion, organized crime is done." But Grant said anyone who believes that thinking is mistaken.
Halprin met with Lombardo for several hours early Saturday.He said Lombardo gained "considerable weight" since going into hiding. Lombardo was moved Saturday from the Chicago Police lockup at 17th and State into the downtown Metropolitan Correctional Center. The delay in getting Lombardo into a federal lockup was likely due to complications getting Lombardo into a segregated unit, Halprin said.
Halprin said Lombardo, who has heart problems and other health issues, was given his medication while in custody Saturday, raising questions as to whether he was taking the same medicine for the last nine months, and if so, how he got it. Halprin didn't specify the type of medication.
Lombardo was very talkative, Halprin said. He joked with him and was in good spirits. Halprin said Lombardo didn't consider himself a fugitive and always expected to go to trial. He is expected to appear in court Tuesday. Halprin said he won't bother to ask for a bond hearing. "His chances of getting out are about the same as Pat Robertson conducting a gay marriage," Halprin joked.
The area where Lombardo was found is one street over from the Elmwood Park police station. Neighbors couldn't believe Lombardo was hiding in their community. Guillermo Rocha, who lives near where Lombardo was arrested, wondered if he and the reputed mob boss ever crossed paths. "If I saw him, I never knew it was him," he said. "Elmwood Park is notorious for mob activity, but I never thought he'd be so close," said Kathy Kukovec, another neighbor. "I didn't think he'd be that stupid."
There was a $20,000 reward offered for Lombardo's arrest. But Grant said it was good-old-fashioned agent work that helped nab the fugitive after continuing to watch Lombardo's known associates for nine months. "I wouldn't say we were lucky last night," Grant said in lauding his organized-crime team who tracked down Lombardo. "I would say we were good."
Thanks to Natasha Korecki
He put on considerable weight, grew a full white beard, let his hair grow long and likely never left the Chicago area. Joey "The Clown" Lombardo, a fugitive for nine months, looked more like Saddam Hussein than a reputed mob boss when FBI agents found him. But it wasn't just Lombardo's change in appearance that kept him hidden in the feds' own backyard.
Lombardo, 77, moved around the Chicago area often and likely used underworld connections to hide in so-called mob "spider holes" before he was arrested in Elmwood Park, FBI Special Agent in Charge Robert Grant said Saturday.
To hide his appearance, Joey "The Clown" Lombardo grew a full beard and longer hair. The 77-year-old reputed mob boss managed to skirt the feds for nine months in the Chicago area by continually moving from one so-called mob “spider hole” to the next, FBI Special Agent in Charge Robert Grant said Saturday. Lombardo told his prominent lawyer Rick Halprin he usually got around on foot. But the end of his run came Friday the 13th.
Lombardo was in the passenger seat of a 1994 silver Lincoln beside an elderly friend in an alley behind the friend's Elmwood Park home. About a dozen FBI agents descended on the two men as agents' cars blocked off the alley from all directions. "Both gentlemen were stunned," Grant said.
The FBI has been keeping known Lombardo associates under surveillance for the last nine months, Grant said. They began watching the man in Elmwood Park hoping to catch him with Lombardo - and they did, he said. Lombardo was carrying $3,000 cash, his attorney said. The feds said they also found business cards - they wouldn't say whose - and a suitcase stuffed with clothes. Lombardo was unarmed. Lombardo also carried his own driver's license, which listed him at his old Ohio Street address, Grant said.
The FBI did not arrest the other man, who is in his mid-80s and lives in the 2300 block of North 74th Avenue. Lombardo didn't resist arrest, but he wasn't compliant, either - refusing to exit the car at first, Grant said. Agents had to walk up to the car, open the door and ask him to get out. Then he did.
Grant said there are two schools of thought on fugitive lifestyles. One is to keep a distance from known associates. The other is to stick with people you trust. Lombardo took the second approach, Grant said. "Without a doubt, I think people assisted Mr. Lombardo in his efforts," Grant said. The investigation continues into who may have been "aiding and abetting" him, he said. The FBI has long believed Lombardo didn't stray far. In his time on the lam, he wrote letters to his attorney, and they carried local postmarks.
Lombardo was one of 14 people charged in a sweeping mob indictment last year, a result of the federal Operation Family Secrets investigation. Two of the charged have since died. The massive indictment ties 18 previously unsolved murders to the Chicago Outfit. But Lombardo and Frank "The German" Schweihs both fled before the government announced its charges April 25, 2005. Schweihs was found last month in Kentucky.
Lombardo's capture brings closure to questions that arose over how both managed to escape arrest last April, particularly Lombardo, who is considered the big fish in the case. Grant said Saturday the two knew the indictment was coming for some time. Lombardo had already been swabbed for DNA in 2003. The two prepared for their departure and left well before the charges were unsealed.
In a superseding indictment, Lombardo was specifically tied to the 1974 murder of Daniel Seifert in Bensenville. Seifert was preparing to testify against Lombardo and others in a pension fraud case when he was gunned down.
One reputed mob associate who has been following the news about Lombardo said Saturday that it's the end of an era with his arrest. "All of the old war horses are either dead or in jail or are pretty well close to being dead," said the man, who did not want to be identified. "In my opinion, organized crime is done." But Grant said anyone who believes that thinking is mistaken.
Halprin met with Lombardo for several hours early Saturday.He said Lombardo gained "considerable weight" since going into hiding. Lombardo was moved Saturday from the Chicago Police lockup at 17th and State into the downtown Metropolitan Correctional Center. The delay in getting Lombardo into a federal lockup was likely due to complications getting Lombardo into a segregated unit, Halprin said.
Halprin said Lombardo, who has heart problems and other health issues, was given his medication while in custody Saturday, raising questions as to whether he was taking the same medicine for the last nine months, and if so, how he got it. Halprin didn't specify the type of medication.
Lombardo was very talkative, Halprin said. He joked with him and was in good spirits. Halprin said Lombardo didn't consider himself a fugitive and always expected to go to trial. He is expected to appear in court Tuesday. Halprin said he won't bother to ask for a bond hearing. "His chances of getting out are about the same as Pat Robertson conducting a gay marriage," Halprin joked.
The area where Lombardo was found is one street over from the Elmwood Park police station. Neighbors couldn't believe Lombardo was hiding in their community. Guillermo Rocha, who lives near where Lombardo was arrested, wondered if he and the reputed mob boss ever crossed paths. "If I saw him, I never knew it was him," he said. "Elmwood Park is notorious for mob activity, but I never thought he'd be so close," said Kathy Kukovec, another neighbor. "I didn't think he'd be that stupid."
There was a $20,000 reward offered for Lombardo's arrest. But Grant said it was good-old-fashioned agent work that helped nab the fugitive after continuing to watch Lombardo's known associates for nine months. "I wouldn't say we were lucky last night," Grant said in lauding his organized-crime team who tracked down Lombardo. "I would say we were good."
Thanks to Natasha Korecki
Monday, January 16, 2006
Soprano's Teach Life Lesson to Boss
Friends of ours: Soprano Crime Family
Tony Soprano can be tough on James Gandolfini, too. "It's a dark, dark world and you're in it a lot," the star of "The Sopranos" said of his career-defining character. "However, if you're in a dark world, I can't think of any other to be in. There are a lot of pluses. It just takes a heavy toll sometimes."
Gandolfini was reflective on Friday talking about "The Sopranos," which returns to HBO on March 12 after a hiatus three months shy of two years. Fans are eager for something new, yet Gandolfini is in the midst of filming the last several episodes.
Seated on a stage with co-stars Edie Falco, Lorraine Bracco and Michael Imperioli, Gandolfini noted that only Bracco had much success prior to the series and many of the show's actors went through the whirlwind of sudden fame. "It's been an incredible life lesson that a lot of us wouldn't have had without this opportunity," he said. "It teaches you about what's important."
The actors, and series creator David Chase, did a delicate dance with reporters in trying to say something but ultimately reveal nothing about the final season. Twelve new episodes will start in March, and a final eight in January 2007.
Repercussions from the jailing of New York mob boss and rival Johnny Sack will define the new season, along with Tony's reconciliation with Carmella. Julianna Margulies, who plays a real estate agent; Hal Holbrook, who plays a businessman ensnared by the mob; and Ben Kingsley, who plays himself, are among this season's guest stars.
Although there have been false alarms about "The Sopranos" ending in the past, "it does feel like the end this time," Gandolfini said. "It's made me think of how I approach work and make sure that you work just as hard now as you did in the beginning," he said.
Tony Soprano can be tough on James Gandolfini, too. "It's a dark, dark world and you're in it a lot," the star of "The Sopranos" said of his career-defining character. "However, if you're in a dark world, I can't think of any other to be in. There are a lot of pluses. It just takes a heavy toll sometimes."
Gandolfini was reflective on Friday talking about "The Sopranos," which returns to HBO on March 12 after a hiatus three months shy of two years. Fans are eager for something new, yet Gandolfini is in the midst of filming the last several episodes.
Seated on a stage with co-stars Edie Falco, Lorraine Bracco and Michael Imperioli, Gandolfini noted that only Bracco had much success prior to the series and many of the show's actors went through the whirlwind of sudden fame. "It's been an incredible life lesson that a lot of us wouldn't have had without this opportunity," he said. "It teaches you about what's important."
The actors, and series creator David Chase, did a delicate dance with reporters in trying to say something but ultimately reveal nothing about the final season. Twelve new episodes will start in March, and a final eight in January 2007.
Repercussions from the jailing of New York mob boss and rival Johnny Sack will define the new season, along with Tony's reconciliation with Carmella. Julianna Margulies, who plays a real estate agent; Hal Holbrook, who plays a businessman ensnared by the mob; and Ben Kingsley, who plays himself, are among this season's guest stars.
Although there have been false alarms about "The Sopranos" ending in the past, "it does feel like the end this time," Gandolfini said. "It's made me think of how I approach work and make sure that you work just as hard now as you did in the beginning," he said.
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Murdered man's mother files $150M suit against city, 'Mafia Cops'
Friends of ours: Lucchese Crime Family, Anthony "Gaspipe" Casso, Nicholas Guido
Friends of mine: Louis Eppolito, Stephen Caracappa
The mother of a Brooklyn man shot dead on Christmas Day 1986 in a case of the mob mistakenly killing the wrong man is suing the so-called "Mafia Cops" and the city for his murder. Pauline Pipitone, whose son Nicholas Guido, 26, was killed as he sat in a car after a holiday dinner, has charged in her lawsuit filed in Brooklyn federal court that former detectives Louis Eppolito and Stephen Caracappa were part of the mob blunder that led to Guido's death.
Pipitone, who is executor of her son's estate, is suing for $150 million. She alleges that the NYPD failed to aggressively investigate allegations that Eppolito and Caracappa had been linked to criminal activity. Eppolito, 57, and Caracappa, 64, were indicted last year on charges they moonlighted as hit men and intelligence moles for the mob while they were cops. The indictment charged that as many as 10 murders are linked to their activities for former Luchese crime family acting boss Anthony "Gaspipe" Casso.
In the case of Guido, federal prosecutors have alleged that Eppolito and Caracappa funneled information to Casso, who was seeking revenge after being targeted in a failed assassination plot. Casso and his cohorts were seeking a reputed Gambino associate named "Nicholas Guido," 29, for being part of the the plot to kill the Luchese leader. Investigators have charged that Eppolito and Caracappa accessed NYPD databases to locate Guido for the mob, but erroneously came across Pipitone's son, a telephone company employee who had no criminal affiliations.
Pipitone's court complaint, which is seeking damages for Guido's wrongful death and deprivation of his constitutional rights, was filed last Thursday and appears to incorporate the allegations contained in the federal charges.
Eppolito and Caracappa, who are currently free under house arrest conditions on $5 million bail, have denied all the charges. They are scheduled to go to trial next month in Brooklyn federal court before Judge Jack B. Weinstein, although defense attorneys are seeking an adjournment.
Last week, federal officials in Las Vegas secured a tax evasion indictment against Eppolito and his wife, Francis. Investigators allege Eppolito didn't report income he made from various book and film deals.
"It was a terrible, terrible crime, but it isn't possible Caracappa could have committed it," said Edward Hayes, the lawyer representing Caracappa, about the Guido murder.
Hayes said the NYPD knew very early on the correct name of the "Guido" allegedly involved in the Casso assassination plot and that presumably that name was in the NYPD databases.
Defense attorney Bruce Cutler, who is defending Eppolito, couldn't be reached for comment Sunday.
Friends of mine: Louis Eppolito, Stephen Caracappa
The mother of a Brooklyn man shot dead on Christmas Day 1986 in a case of the mob mistakenly killing the wrong man is suing the so-called "Mafia Cops" and the city for his murder. Pauline Pipitone, whose son Nicholas Guido, 26, was killed as he sat in a car after a holiday dinner, has charged in her lawsuit filed in Brooklyn federal court that former detectives Louis Eppolito and Stephen Caracappa were part of the mob blunder that led to Guido's death.
Pipitone, who is executor of her son's estate, is suing for $150 million. She alleges that the NYPD failed to aggressively investigate allegations that Eppolito and Caracappa had been linked to criminal activity. Eppolito, 57, and Caracappa, 64, were indicted last year on charges they moonlighted as hit men and intelligence moles for the mob while they were cops. The indictment charged that as many as 10 murders are linked to their activities for former Luchese crime family acting boss Anthony "Gaspipe" Casso.
In the case of Guido, federal prosecutors have alleged that Eppolito and Caracappa funneled information to Casso, who was seeking revenge after being targeted in a failed assassination plot. Casso and his cohorts were seeking a reputed Gambino associate named "Nicholas Guido," 29, for being part of the the plot to kill the Luchese leader. Investigators have charged that Eppolito and Caracappa accessed NYPD databases to locate Guido for the mob, but erroneously came across Pipitone's son, a telephone company employee who had no criminal affiliations.
Pipitone's court complaint, which is seeking damages for Guido's wrongful death and deprivation of his constitutional rights, was filed last Thursday and appears to incorporate the allegations contained in the federal charges.
Eppolito and Caracappa, who are currently free under house arrest conditions on $5 million bail, have denied all the charges. They are scheduled to go to trial next month in Brooklyn federal court before Judge Jack B. Weinstein, although defense attorneys are seeking an adjournment.
Last week, federal officials in Las Vegas secured a tax evasion indictment against Eppolito and his wife, Francis. Investigators allege Eppolito didn't report income he made from various book and film deals.
"It was a terrible, terrible crime, but it isn't possible Caracappa could have committed it," said Edward Hayes, the lawyer representing Caracappa, about the Guido murder.
Hayes said the NYPD knew very early on the correct name of the "Guido" allegedly involved in the Casso assassination plot and that presumably that name was in the NYPD databases.
Defense attorney Bruce Cutler, who is defending Eppolito, couldn't be reached for comment Sunday.
Mob figure dies, taking 'a lot of secrets' with him!
Friends of ours: Chris Petti, Anthony "Tony the Ant" Spilotro, Frank "The Bomp" Bompensiero, Aladena "Jimmy the Weasel" Fratianno, Bonanno Crime Family
San Diego mob figure Chris Petti, whose attempts to earn money for the Chicago mob ultimately led to convictions of several underworld bosses as well as financier Richard Silberman, has died, the FBI confirmed yesterday. A close associate of slain Las Vegas rackets boss Anthony "Tony the Ant" Spilotro, Petti had lived in Chula Vista and reportedly had been in poor health.
Born Christopher George Poulos in Cicero, Ill., Petti died on New Year's Eve, according to an obituary notice published Friday. He was 78. Petti was long regarded as a low-level hood - a law enforcement official once suggested his lack of respect made him the Rodney Dangerfield of the mob - but his expletive-laced phone conversations, picked up in FBI recordings, led to major federal convictions here.
According to the FBI, Petti sought to fill the void created by the 1986 murder of Spilotro, who was beaten to death, along with younger brother, Michael, and buried in an Indiana cornfield. Petti was in frequent contact with Spilotro's bosses in Chicago and was directed to collect money still on Spilotro's books and to scout out earning opportunities.
According to court records, his extortions included threats to chop off one man's legs; in another, he told a victim that he owed the mob $87,000 and needed to come under Petti's wing. "When you eat alone, sometimes you choke," Petti threateningly told the man, according to court records.
One potentially major venture caught his bosses' attention: a scheme to infiltrate a casino planned in North County by the Rincon tribe.
During that late 1980s investigation, Silberman unexpectedly showed up in FBI surveillance, plotting with Petti and an undercover FBI agent to launder hundreds of thousands of dollars. Silberman had been a top aide to former Gov. Edmund G. "Jerry" Brown Jr. and was married to then-county Supervisor Susan Golding. Silberman was convicted in 1990 and sent to prison. He and Golding divorced, and she went on to serve two terms as San Diego mayor.
With the Silberman trial out of the way, federal prosecutors returned to the Rincon case. Top leaders of the Chicago mob were indicted in 1992; two were convicted the next year and sentenced to three years in prison. Petti pleaded guilty that year in a deal calling for 9½ years in prison but no requirement to testify against his bosses. When U.S. District Judge William B. Enright asked if Petti was indeed guilty, he at first replied: "I guess so." Petti gave a firmer answer when pressed by the judge. He also served a concurrent term in prison for a Las Vegas federal drug offense.
Petti's lawyer in the San Diego case was famed criminal-defense attorney Oscar Goodman, known for his defense of mobsters such as Spilotro. Today, he is mayor of Las Vegas. The prosecutor was Carol Lam, now U.S. attorney for San Diego and Imperial counties.
Retired FBI agent Charlie Walker, who had tracked Petti for years, said the Rincon case revealed Petti's ambitions. "A lot of law enforcement thought he was a two-bit punk, that he didn't have any connections, but he did," Walker said yesterday. Walker said he gained "a bit of grudging respect" for Petti for his refusal to turn informant. "You hate to say you respect anyone (in the mob)," said Walker, "but the one thing about Chris . . . when we arrested him, he had plenty of opportunities to cooperate, if he wanted to, but he steadfastly refused. "He went to his grave with a lot of secrets. I would have loved to have talked to him," said Walker, now assistant federal security director for the San Diego branch of the Transportation Security Administration. No doubt it would have been an interesting story.
Petti was listed in Nevada's "black book" of people - many of them mob figures - banned from Silver State casinos. In a confidential, 1975 intelligence report, the California Department of Justice listed Petti as a "close associate" of San Diego mob boss Frank "The Bomp" Bompensiero, who would be gunned down, gangland-style, in 1977 while walking to his home in Pacific Beach from a nearby pay phone. It was later learned that Bompensiero had been an FBI informant.
Infamous mob turncoat Aladena "Jimmy the Weasel" Fratianno claimed during San Diego federal court testimony in 1982 that Petti and Spilotro had plotted to kill him. Fratianno, who collaborated on an autobiography titled, "The Last Mafioso," went on to earn millions of dollars testifying against Mafia figures. He died in 1993.
Petti co-founded P&T Construction in the 1970s; at one time the company was believed to be involved in aluminum-siding schemes involving Bonanno crime-family figures. He had multiple arrests - for theft, extortion, gambling and other crimes - but few convictions. Among them: a 1970s conviction for a baseball-bat assault in La Jolla.
Thanks to Philip J. LaVelle
San Diego mob figure Chris Petti, whose attempts to earn money for the Chicago mob ultimately led to convictions of several underworld bosses as well as financier Richard Silberman, has died, the FBI confirmed yesterday. A close associate of slain Las Vegas rackets boss Anthony "Tony the Ant" Spilotro, Petti had lived in Chula Vista and reportedly had been in poor health.
Born Christopher George Poulos in Cicero, Ill., Petti died on New Year's Eve, according to an obituary notice published Friday. He was 78. Petti was long regarded as a low-level hood - a law enforcement official once suggested his lack of respect made him the Rodney Dangerfield of the mob - but his expletive-laced phone conversations, picked up in FBI recordings, led to major federal convictions here.
According to the FBI, Petti sought to fill the void created by the 1986 murder of Spilotro, who was beaten to death, along with younger brother, Michael, and buried in an Indiana cornfield. Petti was in frequent contact with Spilotro's bosses in Chicago and was directed to collect money still on Spilotro's books and to scout out earning opportunities.
According to court records, his extortions included threats to chop off one man's legs; in another, he told a victim that he owed the mob $87,000 and needed to come under Petti's wing. "When you eat alone, sometimes you choke," Petti threateningly told the man, according to court records.
One potentially major venture caught his bosses' attention: a scheme to infiltrate a casino planned in North County by the Rincon tribe.
During that late 1980s investigation, Silberman unexpectedly showed up in FBI surveillance, plotting with Petti and an undercover FBI agent to launder hundreds of thousands of dollars. Silberman had been a top aide to former Gov. Edmund G. "Jerry" Brown Jr. and was married to then-county Supervisor Susan Golding. Silberman was convicted in 1990 and sent to prison. He and Golding divorced, and she went on to serve two terms as San Diego mayor.
With the Silberman trial out of the way, federal prosecutors returned to the Rincon case. Top leaders of the Chicago mob were indicted in 1992; two were convicted the next year and sentenced to three years in prison. Petti pleaded guilty that year in a deal calling for 9½ years in prison but no requirement to testify against his bosses. When U.S. District Judge William B. Enright asked if Petti was indeed guilty, he at first replied: "I guess so." Petti gave a firmer answer when pressed by the judge. He also served a concurrent term in prison for a Las Vegas federal drug offense.
Petti's lawyer in the San Diego case was famed criminal-defense attorney Oscar Goodman, known for his defense of mobsters such as Spilotro. Today, he is mayor of Las Vegas. The prosecutor was Carol Lam, now U.S. attorney for San Diego and Imperial counties.
Retired FBI agent Charlie Walker, who had tracked Petti for years, said the Rincon case revealed Petti's ambitions. "A lot of law enforcement thought he was a two-bit punk, that he didn't have any connections, but he did," Walker said yesterday. Walker said he gained "a bit of grudging respect" for Petti for his refusal to turn informant. "You hate to say you respect anyone (in the mob)," said Walker, "but the one thing about Chris . . . when we arrested him, he had plenty of opportunities to cooperate, if he wanted to, but he steadfastly refused. "He went to his grave with a lot of secrets. I would have loved to have talked to him," said Walker, now assistant federal security director for the San Diego branch of the Transportation Security Administration. No doubt it would have been an interesting story.
Petti was listed in Nevada's "black book" of people - many of them mob figures - banned from Silver State casinos. In a confidential, 1975 intelligence report, the California Department of Justice listed Petti as a "close associate" of San Diego mob boss Frank "The Bomp" Bompensiero, who would be gunned down, gangland-style, in 1977 while walking to his home in Pacific Beach from a nearby pay phone. It was later learned that Bompensiero had been an FBI informant.
Infamous mob turncoat Aladena "Jimmy the Weasel" Fratianno claimed during San Diego federal court testimony in 1982 that Petti and Spilotro had plotted to kill him. Fratianno, who collaborated on an autobiography titled, "The Last Mafioso," went on to earn millions of dollars testifying against Mafia figures. He died in 1993.
Petti co-founded P&T Construction in the 1970s; at one time the company was believed to be involved in aluminum-siding schemes involving Bonanno crime-family figures. He had multiple arrests - for theft, extortion, gambling and other crimes - but few convictions. Among them: a 1970s conviction for a baseball-bat assault in La Jolla.
Thanks to Philip J. LaVelle
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
