Friends of ours: Johnny Rosselli
Last November we told you here about a book titled Ultimate Sacrifice, which purported to offer new details about the death of President John F. Kennedy. It's too complicated to go into all the revelations in this massive work by Lamar Waldron, but let it suffice to say that the San Francisco Chronicle recently ran a rave review written by Ronald Goldfarb. He was the Mafia prosecutor under Attorney General Bobby Kennedy, and this is the first time anyone closely associated with either brother has offered praise for a JFK assassination book.
Now we can tell you that NBC has completed an hourlong documentary focusing on the information in Ultimate Sacrifice, and this top-secret project will air soon on the Discovery Channel. It is to be titled Conspiracy Files: JFK and will include material withheld from the Warren Commission and from congressional investigations as well. Such material has never been seen on TV before.
Some of the protagonists are Mafia kingpin Johnny Rosselli and other godfathers telling how they tried to kill the president first in Chicago, then in Tampa, Fla., and later in Dallas, where they ultimately succeeded.
This documentary will offer the only TV interview in more than 40 years with Abraham Bolden, the first black Secret Service agent assigned to the White House. Framed by Rosselli's gang, he was arrested on the day he went to appear before the Warren Commission. He has fought for a very long time to clear his name.
Discovery will offer us a few startling realities about how the Secret Service destroyed crucial files covering the Tampa and Chicago attempts, and how there are still "well over 1 million CIA records" about the assassination that remain secret to this day.
Thanks to Liz Smith
Friday, March 17, 2006
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Junior Gotti: They're breaking me
Friends of ours: Junior Gotti
John "Junior" Gotti, facing another retrial on racketeering charges this summer, is struggling financially to fight the charges, his lawyers say.
A second jury deadlocked last week on charges alleging the 42-year-old son of the late mob boss arranged the brutal beating of Guardian Angels founder Curtis Sliwa.
U.S. District Judge Shira Scheindlin set a July 5 date for another retrial after Gotti lawyer Charles Carnesi said Monday that his client needed time to borrow money to pay his legal team. Prosecutors, however, argued that Gotti wants to sell property paid for with crime proceeds, and the judge set a schedule for both sides to argue the fates of several properties before trial.
Sliwa attended the brief court proceeding several hours after announcing on his radio show that he had calmed down since saying last week that his WABC-AM co-host, Ron Kuby, was no longer his friend. Kuby, who represented a Gotti co-defendant in the 1990s, had been called to testify that Gotti told him in 1998 he wanted out of organized crime. After the mistrial, Sliwa said he was so angry at Kuby he wasn't sure he could do the show anymore.
The two were more cordial on the air Monday. "There's not going to be a train wreck," Kuby said. Sliwa, later in the show, said: "Things are getting a little better. In fact, Ron is going to get me a hot cup of tea."
Gotti, free on bail with electronic monitoring, insists he did not order the attack on Sliwa.
John "Junior" Gotti, facing another retrial on racketeering charges this summer, is struggling financially to fight the charges, his lawyers say.
A second jury deadlocked last week on charges alleging the 42-year-old son of the late mob boss arranged the brutal beating of Guardian Angels founder Curtis Sliwa.
U.S. District Judge Shira Scheindlin set a July 5 date for another retrial after Gotti lawyer Charles Carnesi said Monday that his client needed time to borrow money to pay his legal team. Prosecutors, however, argued that Gotti wants to sell property paid for with crime proceeds, and the judge set a schedule for both sides to argue the fates of several properties before trial.
Sliwa attended the brief court proceeding several hours after announcing on his radio show that he had calmed down since saying last week that his WABC-AM co-host, Ron Kuby, was no longer his friend. Kuby, who represented a Gotti co-defendant in the 1990s, had been called to testify that Gotti told him in 1998 he wanted out of organized crime. After the mistrial, Sliwa said he was so angry at Kuby he wasn't sure he could do the show anymore.
The two were more cordial on the air Monday. "There's not going to be a train wreck," Kuby said. Sliwa, later in the show, said: "Things are getting a little better. In fact, Ron is going to get me a hot cup of tea."
Gotti, free on bail with electronic monitoring, insists he did not order the attack on Sliwa.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Donnie Brasco on The Sopranos
Friends of ours: Bonanno Crime Family, Soprano Crime Family
Friends of mine: Donnie Brasco
The best way to know if a show about the mob is authentic is to ask a mobster. But that's scary. So we did the next best thing. We invited former FBI agent-turned-mob-infiltrator-turned-mob informer Joseph Pistone (the real Donnie Brasco) to watch the first episode of the new season of "The Sopranos" and give us his thoughts.
An expert on organized crime, Pistone served six years undercover in the notorious Bonanno crime family in New York City. His testimony helped lead to the arrest of more than 175 criminals.
Pistone is sharing his Mafia knowledge with Chicago audiences with a new show based on his book The Way of the Wiseguy, a funny and frightening look at how one becomes a wiseguy. It's like a FAQ on the world of Cosa Nostra, showing a typical day in the life of a gangster: the dos and don'ts of the Mafia code; interactions with their families and other thugs, and their unique and creative use of language.
Friends of mine: Donnie Brasco
The best way to know if a show about the mob is authentic is to ask a mobster. But that's scary. So we did the next best thing. We invited former FBI agent-turned-mob-infiltrator-turned-mob informer Joseph Pistone (the real Donnie Brasco) to watch the first episode of the new season of "The Sopranos" and give us his thoughts.
An expert on organized crime, Pistone served six years undercover in the notorious Bonanno crime family in New York City. His testimony helped lead to the arrest of more than 175 criminals.
Pistone is sharing his Mafia knowledge with Chicago audiences with a new show based on his book The Way of the Wiseguy, a funny and frightening look at how one becomes a wiseguy. It's like a FAQ on the world of Cosa Nostra, showing a typical day in the life of a gangster: the dos and don'ts of the Mafia code; interactions with their families and other thugs, and their unique and creative use of language.
'THE WAY OF THE WISEGUY'
When: Open run
Where: Chicago Center for the Performing Arts, 777 N. Green
Tickets: $39-$55
Call: (312) 733-6000
"People are fascinated because they think they would like to live like a wiseguy," Pistone explains. In the movies, the guys are tough, always have cash and lead exciting lives. But Pistone warns, "What they don't see is the treachery involved."
Here's what Pistone had to say about Sunday's season premiere of "The Sopranos":
*Tony looks for buried money in the backyard.
"That would happen," Pistone said. "They bury it and then go look for it later." Pistone said he knew guys who would wrap money in leather bags and then stick them in the drainage system of a sink in an unused bathroom, for example. Seems Chase Bank just isn't an option.
*The criminal's usual dapper attire.
That is pretty accurate, Pistone said. There is no such thing as a casual Friday in the mob. "You don't see guys wearing jeans," he said. "When they were grooming me, they said they wanted me to dress neat. Most of these guys have slacks or something. One of the things they didn't want to see was a pair of Levis. "They wanted to portray an image."
*The jargon.
Pistone said most of the dialogue in the show is accurate -- he thinks there may be someone on "the inside" who is helping out the writers -- but he did find one particular thing jarring: the foul language used in front of the women. "I have been to many dinners at wiseguys' houses where their wives were there or their mothers, and I never heard those guys use vulgarity around the kitchen table," he said. "I was around these guys for six years and I never heard any vulgar language around women."
Here's what Pistone had to say about Sunday's season premiere of "The Sopranos":
*Tony looks for buried money in the backyard.
"That would happen," Pistone said. "They bury it and then go look for it later." Pistone said he knew guys who would wrap money in leather bags and then stick them in the drainage system of a sink in an unused bathroom, for example. Seems Chase Bank just isn't an option.
*The criminal's usual dapper attire.
That is pretty accurate, Pistone said. There is no such thing as a casual Friday in the mob. "You don't see guys wearing jeans," he said. "When they were grooming me, they said they wanted me to dress neat. Most of these guys have slacks or something. One of the things they didn't want to see was a pair of Levis. "They wanted to portray an image."
*The jargon.
Pistone said most of the dialogue in the show is accurate -- he thinks there may be someone on "the inside" who is helping out the writers -- but he did find one particular thing jarring: the foul language used in front of the women. "I have been to many dinners at wiseguys' houses where their wives were there or their mothers, and I never heard those guys use vulgarity around the kitchen table," he said. "I was around these guys for six years and I never heard any vulgar language around women."
*A meeting in Tony's office.
Pistone said he is disappointed by some mob movies where the boss' office is a palatial pad with fancy furniture and paintings. It looks like the office of a CEO of a Fortune 500 company. "Tony's office is the way most of the offices looked like, in the back of a club," Pistone said about Soprano's office in the back of the Bada Bing club. "There was nothing fancy about it."
*Tony and his wife go to a sushi restaurant.
Pistone laughs. "That would never happen," he said. "I never knew a mob guy who would go eat sushi." According to Pistone, the wiseguy diet consists pretty much of two types of cuisines -- (obviously) Italian and (surprisingly) Chinese. "That was the two main dinners," he said. "Why they love Chinese food, I don't know."
*Tony kids around with lawmen he knows are investigating him.
"That's a good scene," Pistone said. He said that it wasn't unusual to see mobsters talking to the cops who were tailing them. He said the cops would sometimes hang out at the mob joints just to let the wiseguys know that they were onto them. And the wiseguys, in turn, would let them know they knew they were being watched. He said many times there was good natured ribbing.
"It's done with mutual respect," he said. "You can bust the agents' balls, but you can't go too far. You can't make it too personal."
*Tony gets an envelope of money at a funeral parlor.
That may be the best place to do business, Pistone said. "That is a great place to hand off money because you know the place isn't going to be bugged," he said. And any undercover cop would be spotted easily because he'd be recognized in a place where it was only family and friends, he said.
*Tony and Paulie walk outside to talk.
"That's called a walk and talk," Pistone said. "You walk out of the back of a building so you can talk without being recorded or listened to." Pistone said the ambient noise of the outside -- traffic, birds, people -- make it hard for police to record conversations.
*One of Tony's guys walks into a hot dog stand and kills a customer.
That's the way it's done, Piston said. Walk in, shoot the guy, drop the gun, walk out. Nothing is ever said to the man who is shot. "It's nothing personal about it," he said. "It's business."
*Paulie "Walnuts," Johnny "Sack," Bobby "Bacala" ...
"Everybody has a nickname. It might be something you get as a kid or later on. And once you get a nickname, you can't get rid of it," he said. Piston said he knew guys with colorful nicknames. Bobby "Badheart" who was called that because he had a pacemaker. Charlie "Chains" wore a lot of jewelry. "You can know a guy for 10 years and you'd never know his last name," Pistone said. "Nobody would ever introduce someone with their last name and nobody would ever ask."
*Tony sees a therapist.
"Would never happen," he said. Pistone said any Mafioso who went to a therapist probably would end up dead. Too many secrets could be revealed. And, Pistone said, there's a little thing called ego that could keep a wiseguy off the couch. "They are called 'wiseguys' for a reason. They think they are wise and know everything," Pistone said. "They aren't going to go to someone else for answers."
Thanks to Lucio Guerrero
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Police Accused of Mafia Ties Head to Trial
Friends of ours: John Gotti, Anthony "Gaspipe" Casso, Lucchese Crime Family
Friends of mine: Louis Eppolito, Stephen Caracappa
It's a crime story that begs for a best seller: A pair of oft-decorated NYPD detectives are accused of leading double lives, joining the mob's payroll. They allegedly go on a crime spree, leave a trail of dead bodies, and retire to a life as Las Vegas high rollers. But who could write such a bizarre tale?
There's plenty of talent right at the defense table. Ex-detective turned defendant Louis Eppolito wrote an autobiography titled "Mafia Cop" and even appeared in a mob movie. His attorney, Bruce Cutler, wrote "Closing Argument," covering a career that includes defending mob boss John Gotti. Cutler's co-counsel, Edward Hayes, has a memoir titled "Mouthpiece" that just hit stores, and he was a model for a character in a Tom Wolfe novel.
All this media know-how will assemble in court Monday when the so-called "Mafia Cops" - Eppolito and former partner Stephen Caracappa - arrive for opening statements in their racketeering and murder trial.
Expect a few plot twists. "I think there will be some surprises," Hayes predicted. "And I certainly have a few."
According to prosecutors, the two ex-detectives engaged in a cornucopia of criminal activity between 1979 and last year. Their indictment lists eight murders, allegedly at the bidding of Luchese family underboss Anthony "Gaspipe" Casso.
Authorities said Casso paid $75,000 for one of the hits, regularly paid the pair $4,000 a month, and referred to them as his "crystal ball."
In one case, the detectives allegedly provided Casso with information to locate a mobster suspected in a murder plot against Casso. The tip, however, led to another man with the same name who died in a hail of gunfire on Christmas Day 1986.
There are charges of racketeering, kidnapping, murder, obstruction of justice, and money laundering, and after the pair retired to Nevada they were distributing methamphetamine, according to the indictment. The list could have been longer; in January, prosecutors opted to drop two additional murder counts.
Eppolito, 57, and Caracappa, 64, are both insistent about their innocence. Caracappa went on "60 Minutes" in January to express his indignation.
"Totally ridiculous," he said of the charges. "It's ludicrous. Anybody that knows me knows I love the police department."
Caracappa spent 23 years with the NYPD, working his way up to detective first grade and helping to establish the department's nerve center for Mafia murder investigations before retiring in 1992.
Eppolito actually grew up in a mob family: His father, grandfather and an uncle were all members of the Gambino family. The contrast between his police work and his family life was detailed in his autobiography, "Mafia Cop: The Story of An Honest Cop Whose Family Was the Mob."
He joined the department in 1969, and also made detective first-grade. Before his 1990 retirement, Eppolito was known among fellow cops as a tough guy with plenty of street smarts. The partners settled in Las Vegas to enjoy their golden years. They were arrested on March 9, 2005, at a Las Vegas restaurant, and released on $5 million bail each.
Their trial promises to be one of the year's great legal spectacles.
The bombastic Cutler is best known for his work with Gotti. In one memorable opening statement, he dramatically spiked the indictment against Gotti in a courtroom trash can.
"Garbage!" he thundered.
Hayes, a former prosecutor, brings his impeccable attire and a glittering client list that includes Robert De Niro and Sean "Diddy" Combs. He was the model for take-no-prisoners defense attorney Tommy Killian in Tom Wolfe's "The Bonfire of the Vanities." Hayes said he's willing to let somebody else write about this case: "I already wrote a book."
If someone else takes up the challenge, there's always the chance of a movie - and Eppolito could play himself. He had a bit part in the Martin Scorsese mob classic "GoodFellas."
Thanks to Larry McShane
Friends of mine: Louis Eppolito, Stephen Caracappa
It's a crime story that begs for a best seller: A pair of oft-decorated NYPD detectives are accused of leading double lives, joining the mob's payroll. They allegedly go on a crime spree, leave a trail of dead bodies, and retire to a life as Las Vegas high rollers. But who could write such a bizarre tale?
There's plenty of talent right at the defense table. Ex-detective turned defendant Louis Eppolito wrote an autobiography titled "Mafia Cop" and even appeared in a mob movie. His attorney, Bruce Cutler, wrote "Closing Argument," covering a career that includes defending mob boss John Gotti. Cutler's co-counsel, Edward Hayes, has a memoir titled "Mouthpiece" that just hit stores, and he was a model for a character in a Tom Wolfe novel.
All this media know-how will assemble in court Monday when the so-called "Mafia Cops" - Eppolito and former partner Stephen Caracappa - arrive for opening statements in their racketeering and murder trial.
Expect a few plot twists. "I think there will be some surprises," Hayes predicted. "And I certainly have a few."
According to prosecutors, the two ex-detectives engaged in a cornucopia of criminal activity between 1979 and last year. Their indictment lists eight murders, allegedly at the bidding of Luchese family underboss Anthony "Gaspipe" Casso.
Authorities said Casso paid $75,000 for one of the hits, regularly paid the pair $4,000 a month, and referred to them as his "crystal ball."
In one case, the detectives allegedly provided Casso with information to locate a mobster suspected in a murder plot against Casso. The tip, however, led to another man with the same name who died in a hail of gunfire on Christmas Day 1986.
There are charges of racketeering, kidnapping, murder, obstruction of justice, and money laundering, and after the pair retired to Nevada they were distributing methamphetamine, according to the indictment. The list could have been longer; in January, prosecutors opted to drop two additional murder counts.
Eppolito, 57, and Caracappa, 64, are both insistent about their innocence. Caracappa went on "60 Minutes" in January to express his indignation.
"Totally ridiculous," he said of the charges. "It's ludicrous. Anybody that knows me knows I love the police department."
Caracappa spent 23 years with the NYPD, working his way up to detective first grade and helping to establish the department's nerve center for Mafia murder investigations before retiring in 1992.
Eppolito actually grew up in a mob family: His father, grandfather and an uncle were all members of the Gambino family. The contrast between his police work and his family life was detailed in his autobiography, "Mafia Cop: The Story of An Honest Cop Whose Family Was the Mob."
He joined the department in 1969, and also made detective first-grade. Before his 1990 retirement, Eppolito was known among fellow cops as a tough guy with plenty of street smarts. The partners settled in Las Vegas to enjoy their golden years. They were arrested on March 9, 2005, at a Las Vegas restaurant, and released on $5 million bail each.
Their trial promises to be one of the year's great legal spectacles.
The bombastic Cutler is best known for his work with Gotti. In one memorable opening statement, he dramatically spiked the indictment against Gotti in a courtroom trash can.
"Garbage!" he thundered.
Hayes, a former prosecutor, brings his impeccable attire and a glittering client list that includes Robert De Niro and Sean "Diddy" Combs. He was the model for take-no-prisoners defense attorney Tommy Killian in Tom Wolfe's "The Bonfire of the Vanities." Hayes said he's willing to let somebody else write about this case: "I already wrote a book."
If someone else takes up the challenge, there's always the chance of a movie - and Eppolito could play himself. He had a bit part in the Martin Scorsese mob classic "GoodFellas."
Thanks to Larry McShane
Gotti's Lawyer: Fuhgeddaboudit!
Friends of ours: Junior Gotti
Fuhgeddaboudit! John "Junior" Gotti's confident lawyer hopes his client will whack any plea bargains that desperate prosecutors now put on the table in the wake of his second stunning mistrial on racketeering charges. Spurred on by the 8-4 hung jury that was in favor of Junior on Friday, lawyer Charles Carnesie said yesterday that he'd advise Gotti to prepare his Teflon armor for a third trial - and ignore any plea deals. "It's a personal decision, something that he has to decide, but personally I'd be disappointed [if he took a deal]," Carnesie said.
Gotti was on the verge of pleading guilty last year to charges of racketeering and ordering the kidnapping of radio host Curtis Sliwa. But the deal, which would have had him serve seven years of a 10-year sentence, was rejected at the last minute. Gotti had said a major concern was protecting himself with immunity from future prosecutions.
It is possible that the chance to start his life afresh could now be offered if he is willing to admit to all of his crimes. But the attorney who negotiated that last plea deal agrees with Carnesie - and says Gotti should hold out for a hung-jury hat trick, which would be "as good as an acquittal." "If I was in the government's position, I'd go on my hands and knees, begging for a plea agreement," said his former lawyer, Jeffery Lichtman. "At some point, the government is going to have to let go of its Moby Dick."
Gotti, who is out on $7 million bail, left the Long Island mansion where he is under house arrest for about two hours yesterday. Dressed in black and wearing a baseball cap, he left home carrying a mysterious black bowling bag and lost tailing reporters in a black Infiniti sedan. While Gotti did not reveal his destination, under the terms of his house arrest, he can only visit his lawyer and church. He returned home by afternoon to play soccer with two of his sons.
Jury foreman Greg Rosenblum revealed that eight jurors bought Gotti's defense that he has not been involved in the mob since 1999, which would mean that the five-year statute of limitations on racketeering charges has expired. Those same eight, Rosenblum said, had enough reasonable doubt to clear Gotti of charges that he ordered two hoods to kidnap and beat Sliwa with baseball bats in 1992 after the radio talk show host's constant criticism of his father. The thugs ended up shooting Sliwa in the back of a cab.
Sliwa, still smarting from yet another mistrial, said yesterday that he was adamantly against any plea bargaining. "I've never been in favor of plea bargaining with the head of the Gambino crime family," he said. "Let's take a roll before the jury."
Fuhgeddaboudit! John "Junior" Gotti's confident lawyer hopes his client will whack any plea bargains that desperate prosecutors now put on the table in the wake of his second stunning mistrial on racketeering charges. Spurred on by the 8-4 hung jury that was in favor of Junior on Friday, lawyer Charles Carnesie said yesterday that he'd advise Gotti to prepare his Teflon armor for a third trial - and ignore any plea deals. "It's a personal decision, something that he has to decide, but personally I'd be disappointed [if he took a deal]," Carnesie said.
Gotti was on the verge of pleading guilty last year to charges of racketeering and ordering the kidnapping of radio host Curtis Sliwa. But the deal, which would have had him serve seven years of a 10-year sentence, was rejected at the last minute. Gotti had said a major concern was protecting himself with immunity from future prosecutions.
It is possible that the chance to start his life afresh could now be offered if he is willing to admit to all of his crimes. But the attorney who negotiated that last plea deal agrees with Carnesie - and says Gotti should hold out for a hung-jury hat trick, which would be "as good as an acquittal." "If I was in the government's position, I'd go on my hands and knees, begging for a plea agreement," said his former lawyer, Jeffery Lichtman. "At some point, the government is going to have to let go of its Moby Dick."
Gotti, who is out on $7 million bail, left the Long Island mansion where he is under house arrest for about two hours yesterday. Dressed in black and wearing a baseball cap, he left home carrying a mysterious black bowling bag and lost tailing reporters in a black Infiniti sedan. While Gotti did not reveal his destination, under the terms of his house arrest, he can only visit his lawyer and church. He returned home by afternoon to play soccer with two of his sons.
Jury foreman Greg Rosenblum revealed that eight jurors bought Gotti's defense that he has not been involved in the mob since 1999, which would mean that the five-year statute of limitations on racketeering charges has expired. Those same eight, Rosenblum said, had enough reasonable doubt to clear Gotti of charges that he ordered two hoods to kidnap and beat Sliwa with baseball bats in 1992 after the radio talk show host's constant criticism of his father. The thugs ended up shooting Sliwa in the back of a cab.
Sliwa, still smarting from yet another mistrial, said yesterday that he was adamantly against any plea bargaining. "I've never been in favor of plea bargaining with the head of the Gambino crime family," he said. "Let's take a roll before the jury."
Mob Hit: The Boss of Comedy?
It's hard to find anyone who will make a serious argument that "The Sopranos" is not great television. Sure, some squirm at the language and violence, but critics have plumbed the depths of their vocabularies for superlatives to describe the show since it debuted on HBO in 1999.
After a hiatus of almost two years, a new season begins Sunday; then, in 20 episodes, it will be over. What is it about this show that caused so many to call it a work of genius?
Most important is its choice of subject matter. The mob story, it might be argued, replaced the Western as the great American epic in the last third of the 20th century. As the counterculture was shredding the myth of the West into a million little pieces with movies such as "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," "The Wild Bunch" and even "Midnight Cowboy," the first two "Godfather" movies were winning Best Picture Oscars. Those films retold the American epic on the urban frontier. "Goodfellas" solidified the idea that "Mafia + Movie = Art."
The opening credits of "The Sopranos" seem ever so conscious of this fact. In 90 seconds, the story of the American dream is retold in a way that would warm the heart of any American studies professor.
It's a simple tale, really -- Tony Soprano driving from Manhattan to his home in suburban New Jersey -- but it's humming with symbols of the great immigration stories of upward mobility. The Statue of Liberty can be seen out the window of Tony's car as he moves down the turnpike through the toxic wastelands of urban industrialism to the old neighborhood, its streets lined with restaurants and small businesses.
As the trip continues, the houses get bigger, as do the spaces between each one, until he reaches his destination: a little estate with a swimming pool in a quiet wooded enclave. It's a trip many Americans have made, although it may have taken them a generation or two to do so, and one that many more Americans dream of making. Pretty deep for TV credits, don't you think?
The real stroke of genius in "The Sopranos," however, was that it took the idea of the artsy mob epic and turned it into farce. "The Sopranos" is a sitcom trapped in the body of a dramatic masterpiece. Many scenes in the show could work just fine with a laugh track.
"Family" is a major theme in most mob stories. Usually, as in "The Godfather" movies, family is presented with great gravitas and high tragedy, in the Shakespearean tradition. This is not the case in "The Sopranos." If the family in "The Godfather" resembles the feuding Plantagenets in Shakespeare's "Henry VI" plays, the family in "The Sopranos" resembles the Bundys in "Married . . . With Children."
In a clever sleight of hand, "The Sopranos" merged the epic mob story with the dysfunctional family sitcom. The clash of these two genres has provided some of the most irresistible moments in the show. While Tony is fretting over the imminent collapse of his criminal empire, for example, his wife is stressing over her need to get to the Sports Authority before it closes to buy gym socks. On another occasion, Tony whacks somebody while taking his daughter on a tour of college campuses.
As bizarre as the combination of sitcom and Mafia may seem on paper, it works -- brilliantly. Hiding in the Trojan horse of adrenaline-laced scenes of extreme violence and graphic sexuality, "The Sopranos" is one of the most insightful TV shows ever made about a multi-generational American family.
Tony's problem, however, is that he doesn't want to be in a comedy; he wants to be in "The Godfather." Tony is a mobster in a world where mobster movies win Academy Awards, but he believes that somehow he has missed the golden age described in those movies.
The nervous breakdown that sends Tony to the psychiatrist in the series's first episode was caused by just this anxiety. In his first confession to Dr. Melfi, he reports: "It's good to be in something from the ground floor. I came too late for that, I know. But lately, I'm getting the feeling that I came in at the end. The best is over."
Poor Tony has self-esteem issues.
"You tell people I'm nothin' compared to the people that used to run things," Tony shouts as he viciously beats a victim in one of many violent acts we've seen him perform over the years.
Tony's problem is simple. He wants people to think he's the Godfather, but deep down he's afraid they see him as Homer Simpson. In overcompensating for these feelings of inferiority, Tony has done many very bad things in the past five seasons -- and if he's not careful, it's going to get him killed in the sixth.
Thanks to Robert J. Thompson
After a hiatus of almost two years, a new season begins Sunday; then, in 20 episodes, it will be over. What is it about this show that caused so many to call it a work of genius?
Most important is its choice of subject matter. The mob story, it might be argued, replaced the Western as the great American epic in the last third of the 20th century. As the counterculture was shredding the myth of the West into a million little pieces with movies such as "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," "The Wild Bunch" and even "Midnight Cowboy," the first two "Godfather" movies were winning Best Picture Oscars. Those films retold the American epic on the urban frontier. "Goodfellas" solidified the idea that "Mafia + Movie = Art."
The opening credits of "The Sopranos" seem ever so conscious of this fact. In 90 seconds, the story of the American dream is retold in a way that would warm the heart of any American studies professor.
It's a simple tale, really -- Tony Soprano driving from Manhattan to his home in suburban New Jersey -- but it's humming with symbols of the great immigration stories of upward mobility. The Statue of Liberty can be seen out the window of Tony's car as he moves down the turnpike through the toxic wastelands of urban industrialism to the old neighborhood, its streets lined with restaurants and small businesses.
As the trip continues, the houses get bigger, as do the spaces between each one, until he reaches his destination: a little estate with a swimming pool in a quiet wooded enclave. It's a trip many Americans have made, although it may have taken them a generation or two to do so, and one that many more Americans dream of making. Pretty deep for TV credits, don't you think?
The real stroke of genius in "The Sopranos," however, was that it took the idea of the artsy mob epic and turned it into farce. "The Sopranos" is a sitcom trapped in the body of a dramatic masterpiece. Many scenes in the show could work just fine with a laugh track.
"Family" is a major theme in most mob stories. Usually, as in "The Godfather" movies, family is presented with great gravitas and high tragedy, in the Shakespearean tradition. This is not the case in "The Sopranos." If the family in "The Godfather" resembles the feuding Plantagenets in Shakespeare's "Henry VI" plays, the family in "The Sopranos" resembles the Bundys in "Married . . . With Children."
In a clever sleight of hand, "The Sopranos" merged the epic mob story with the dysfunctional family sitcom. The clash of these two genres has provided some of the most irresistible moments in the show. While Tony is fretting over the imminent collapse of his criminal empire, for example, his wife is stressing over her need to get to the Sports Authority before it closes to buy gym socks. On another occasion, Tony whacks somebody while taking his daughter on a tour of college campuses.
As bizarre as the combination of sitcom and Mafia may seem on paper, it works -- brilliantly. Hiding in the Trojan horse of adrenaline-laced scenes of extreme violence and graphic sexuality, "The Sopranos" is one of the most insightful TV shows ever made about a multi-generational American family.
Tony's problem, however, is that he doesn't want to be in a comedy; he wants to be in "The Godfather." Tony is a mobster in a world where mobster movies win Academy Awards, but he believes that somehow he has missed the golden age described in those movies.
The nervous breakdown that sends Tony to the psychiatrist in the series's first episode was caused by just this anxiety. In his first confession to Dr. Melfi, he reports: "It's good to be in something from the ground floor. I came too late for that, I know. But lately, I'm getting the feeling that I came in at the end. The best is over."
Poor Tony has self-esteem issues.
"You tell people I'm nothin' compared to the people that used to run things," Tony shouts as he viciously beats a victim in one of many violent acts we've seen him perform over the years.
Tony's problem is simple. He wants people to think he's the Godfather, but deep down he's afraid they see him as Homer Simpson. In overcompensating for these feelings of inferiority, Tony has done many very bad things in the past five seasons -- and if he's not careful, it's going to get him killed in the sixth.
Thanks to Robert J. Thompson
Monday, March 13, 2006
Gotti Mob Magic Does It Again with Hung Jury.
Friends of ours: Junior Gotti
Call him the Teflon Scion. John "Junior" Gotti, son of the Teflon Don, slipped clear of the feds' determined grasp yet again yesterday with his second mistrial in eight
months after prosecutors apparently failed to convince two-thirds of the jury that he was guilty of racketeering.
After less than 10 hours of deliberation, the jury foreman wrote a note to Manhattan federal Judge Shira Scheindlin: "We are completely DEADLOCKED. More time will not change the views in this room."
The foreman, Greg Rosenblum, later revealed that eight jurors believed Gotti's claim that he had quit the mob before July 22, 1999 - meaning the five-year statute of limitations would have expired on racketeering charges that the feds brought in 2004. Rosenblum told WNBC/Channel 4 those same eight jurors also had enough doubt in their mind to clear Junior on charges he ordered the kidnapping of radio host Curtis Sliwa.
"How many people on that jury felt that he had given up the mob life? Eight. And the other four felt . . . that he was still involved in some way," Rosenblum said. The foreman accused the four holdouts of finding Gotti guilty before giving him a chance to prove his innocence - and said that nothing the defense did was going to change their minds. "I was hoping that everyone could have at least kept an open mind, but it seemed like certain individuals on the jury had him guilty beforehand," Rosenblum said. "There was no evidence that we could directly see that linked him to anything since 1999 that would implicate him in any sort of extortion or loan-sharking schemes."
On Sliwa's kidnapping, Rosenblum said, "The eight that felt that he had withdrawn [from the mob] also felt that there was enough evidence pointing, enough doubt, enough reasonable doubt, that he had nothing to do with it whatsoever."
As the judge excused the panel, a relieved Gotti hugged his lawyer, Charles Carnesi, while another member of his defense team called Junior's wife, Kim. "He's coming home again - it was a good result," lawyer Seth Ginsberg told her. But Kim Gotti already knew, because minutes earlier a Post photographer had told her the verdict as she raked leaves on the front lawn of her Oyster Bay Cove, L.I., mansion.
"No way!" she exclaimed, dropping the rake and running inside the house. But her husband's trials are not over. The prosecution team immediately asked the judge for a speedy retrial date. "We gotta do it one more time," said Junior, who is free, under house arrest, on $7 million bail. "I'm going to sleep in my own bed tonight . . . It's better than sleeping in the MCC [Metropolitan Correctional Center]. "I'm happy," he added as hugged his mother, Victoria. "I'm financially ruined, but what are you gonna do?"
His mother, Victoria, who heard testimony about her Dapper Don Juan hubby's love affairs and allegedly illegitimate children during the trial, was not happy. "I'm just very disgusted at this point . . . They're trying to railroad my son," she snarled. Her namesake daughter, Victoria, chimed in: "We wanted an acquittal. I just think they're going to keep on trying. The fact that they're not winning is great."
As he hopped into a car to head home, Gotti told a crush of reporters, "I'm going to see my children." On the prospect of another retrial, he said: "I'm worried. I'm
concerned always. I've got five children home. I want to raise my children."
If convicted, Gotti, 42, faced up to 30 years in prison for kidnapping and extortion. He is accused of a long-running racketeering conspiracy - including sending two mob hoods to kidnap and beat up Sliwa in 1992. Defense attorneys admitted young Gotti had been active in organized crime, but insisted he had withdrawn in early 1999.
Sliwa, the founder of the Guardian Angels, had testified about the shooting attack at the retrial - as he did at the first trial. But this time around, his WABC radio talk-show partner, civil-rights lawyer Ron Kuby, took the stand as a defense witness and, in bombshell testimony, supported Gotti's claim that he had quit the Gambino crime family. He testified that Gotti told him in 1998 that "he was sick of this life . . . He wanted to rejoin his family and be done with this."
Sliwa, who rushed to the federal courthouse when he learned about the hung jury, blasted Kuby for betraying him and said he wouldn't be surprised if his former pal was at Gotti's home "toasting his friend."
In seeking a speedy retrial, prosecutor Michael McGovern lobbied for an April 17 start, but the defense pushed for a later date. "The lawyers on this team haven't been paid for this trial, now we're talking about another trial," said defense lawyer Debra Karlstein. The judge ordered lawyers for both sides to return to court on Monday to set a retrial date.
Gotti's pregnant wife rushed out onto their front lawn with the family dog and three of her kids when he pulled up shortly before 5 p.m. "I feel great, these are my three sons," Junior Gotti said, posing with them briefly before disappearing inside. Asked what his wife had prepared for dinner, he said, "Whatever she makes - any free meal is a good meal."
Call him the Teflon Scion. John "Junior" Gotti, son of the Teflon Don, slipped clear of the feds' determined grasp yet again yesterday with his second mistrial in eight
months after prosecutors apparently failed to convince two-thirds of the jury that he was guilty of racketeering.
After less than 10 hours of deliberation, the jury foreman wrote a note to Manhattan federal Judge Shira Scheindlin: "We are completely DEADLOCKED. More time will not change the views in this room."
The foreman, Greg Rosenblum, later revealed that eight jurors believed Gotti's claim that he had quit the mob before July 22, 1999 - meaning the five-year statute of limitations would have expired on racketeering charges that the feds brought in 2004. Rosenblum told WNBC/Channel 4 those same eight jurors also had enough doubt in their mind to clear Junior on charges he ordered the kidnapping of radio host Curtis Sliwa.
"How many people on that jury felt that he had given up the mob life? Eight. And the other four felt . . . that he was still involved in some way," Rosenblum said. The foreman accused the four holdouts of finding Gotti guilty before giving him a chance to prove his innocence - and said that nothing the defense did was going to change their minds. "I was hoping that everyone could have at least kept an open mind, but it seemed like certain individuals on the jury had him guilty beforehand," Rosenblum said. "There was no evidence that we could directly see that linked him to anything since 1999 that would implicate him in any sort of extortion or loan-sharking schemes."
On Sliwa's kidnapping, Rosenblum said, "The eight that felt that he had withdrawn [from the mob] also felt that there was enough evidence pointing, enough doubt, enough reasonable doubt, that he had nothing to do with it whatsoever."
As the judge excused the panel, a relieved Gotti hugged his lawyer, Charles Carnesi, while another member of his defense team called Junior's wife, Kim. "He's coming home again - it was a good result," lawyer Seth Ginsberg told her. But Kim Gotti already knew, because minutes earlier a Post photographer had told her the verdict as she raked leaves on the front lawn of her Oyster Bay Cove, L.I., mansion.
"No way!" she exclaimed, dropping the rake and running inside the house. But her husband's trials are not over. The prosecution team immediately asked the judge for a speedy retrial date. "We gotta do it one more time," said Junior, who is free, under house arrest, on $7 million bail. "I'm going to sleep in my own bed tonight . . . It's better than sleeping in the MCC [Metropolitan Correctional Center]. "I'm happy," he added as hugged his mother, Victoria. "I'm financially ruined, but what are you gonna do?"
His mother, Victoria, who heard testimony about her Dapper Don Juan hubby's love affairs and allegedly illegitimate children during the trial, was not happy. "I'm just very disgusted at this point . . . They're trying to railroad my son," she snarled. Her namesake daughter, Victoria, chimed in: "We wanted an acquittal. I just think they're going to keep on trying. The fact that they're not winning is great."
As he hopped into a car to head home, Gotti told a crush of reporters, "I'm going to see my children." On the prospect of another retrial, he said: "I'm worried. I'm
concerned always. I've got five children home. I want to raise my children."
If convicted, Gotti, 42, faced up to 30 years in prison for kidnapping and extortion. He is accused of a long-running racketeering conspiracy - including sending two mob hoods to kidnap and beat up Sliwa in 1992. Defense attorneys admitted young Gotti had been active in organized crime, but insisted he had withdrawn in early 1999.
Sliwa, the founder of the Guardian Angels, had testified about the shooting attack at the retrial - as he did at the first trial. But this time around, his WABC radio talk-show partner, civil-rights lawyer Ron Kuby, took the stand as a defense witness and, in bombshell testimony, supported Gotti's claim that he had quit the Gambino crime family. He testified that Gotti told him in 1998 that "he was sick of this life . . . He wanted to rejoin his family and be done with this."
Sliwa, who rushed to the federal courthouse when he learned about the hung jury, blasted Kuby for betraying him and said he wouldn't be surprised if his former pal was at Gotti's home "toasting his friend."
In seeking a speedy retrial, prosecutor Michael McGovern lobbied for an April 17 start, but the defense pushed for a later date. "The lawyers on this team haven't been paid for this trial, now we're talking about another trial," said defense lawyer Debra Karlstein. The judge ordered lawyers for both sides to return to court on Monday to set a retrial date.
Gotti's pregnant wife rushed out onto their front lawn with the family dog and three of her kids when he pulled up shortly before 5 p.m. "I feel great, these are my three sons," Junior Gotti said, posing with them briefly before disappearing inside. Asked what his wife had prepared for dinner, he said, "Whatever she makes - any free meal is a good meal."
Sliwa Bashes Kuby
Friends of ours: Junior Gotti
An enraged Curtis Sliwa yesterday lashed out at his radio talk-show partner Ron Kuby for helping John "Junior" Gotti - the man the Guardian Angel founder believes had him kidnapped and nearly killed - get another hung jury. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to go into that studio on Monday without wanting to literally do harm to this guy," Sliwa said of his WABC co-host after Gotti's retrial on racketeering charges was declared a mistrial.
Sliwa, wearing his trademark red Guardian Angels cap and satin jacket, blamed civil-rights lawyer Kuby for convincing at least some jurors that Gotti couldn't be convicted of racketeering, due to the statute of limitations, because he had quit organized crime more than five years before he was indicted.
"My very dear friend, who is a friend no more, didn't even give me a heads-up he would be testifying for my enemy," he said, adding, "It hurt me even more than the three hollow-point bullets and the baseball attack in 1992." Sliwa called Kuby's testimony Gotti's "ace in the hole" and said, "I wouldn't doubt that he's probably at [Gotti's home in] Oyster Bay . . . literally
toasting his friend."
Sliwa said he can't fault the jurors for being unable to agree on whether - or when - Gotti quit the mob. "If I were a juror and saw Ron Kuby willingly coming in and testifying for the guy who ordered the death of his friend and co-worker, I would have my doubts also," he said.
Kuby said he understands Sliwa's distress, but insisted he's not to blame for the hung jury. "He thinks that the Gottis ordered him shot, and I understand Curtis is upset about the statute-of-limitations problem, but that's not my doing," he said. He pointed out that after the first trial, Sliwa "lashed out at the jury, claiming that they had been reached by the Gottis. "This time he lashes out at me," Kuby said. "It's not about him. It's not about me. It's about the strength or weakness of the government's case."
Kuby stressed that "the jury hung the first time, when I had no involvement in the case." He added that Gotti's claim that he was quitting the mob is something he's heard from "every defendant that I have ever had" who pleads guilty, which is what Gotti was doing when he allegedly told Kuby in 1998 that he wanted out of "the life."
"They say they're sick of this life or they want to go home, they're tired of this . . . Whether they ultimately gave up their life of crime or not is something of which I have no knowledge." Kuby also insisted, "I'm not good friends with John Gotti Jr. I'm not even friends with him."
Of his next broadcast with Sliwa, he said, "On Monday, we go in and continue to try to do good radio."
An enraged Curtis Sliwa yesterday lashed out at his radio talk-show partner Ron Kuby for helping John "Junior" Gotti - the man the Guardian Angel founder believes had him kidnapped and nearly killed - get another hung jury. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to go into that studio on Monday without wanting to literally do harm to this guy," Sliwa said of his WABC co-host after Gotti's retrial on racketeering charges was declared a mistrial.
Sliwa, wearing his trademark red Guardian Angels cap and satin jacket, blamed civil-rights lawyer Kuby for convincing at least some jurors that Gotti couldn't be convicted of racketeering, due to the statute of limitations, because he had quit organized crime more than five years before he was indicted.
"My very dear friend, who is a friend no more, didn't even give me a heads-up he would be testifying for my enemy," he said, adding, "It hurt me even more than the three hollow-point bullets and the baseball attack in 1992." Sliwa called Kuby's testimony Gotti's "ace in the hole" and said, "I wouldn't doubt that he's probably at [Gotti's home in] Oyster Bay . . . literally
toasting his friend."
Sliwa said he can't fault the jurors for being unable to agree on whether - or when - Gotti quit the mob. "If I were a juror and saw Ron Kuby willingly coming in and testifying for the guy who ordered the death of his friend and co-worker, I would have my doubts also," he said.
Kuby said he understands Sliwa's distress, but insisted he's not to blame for the hung jury. "He thinks that the Gottis ordered him shot, and I understand Curtis is upset about the statute-of-limitations problem, but that's not my doing," he said. He pointed out that after the first trial, Sliwa "lashed out at the jury, claiming that they had been reached by the Gottis. "This time he lashes out at me," Kuby said. "It's not about him. It's not about me. It's about the strength or weakness of the government's case."
Kuby stressed that "the jury hung the first time, when I had no involvement in the case." He added that Gotti's claim that he was quitting the mob is something he's heard from "every defendant that I have ever had" who pleads guilty, which is what Gotti was doing when he allegedly told Kuby in 1998 that he wanted out of "the life."
"They say they're sick of this life or they want to go home, they're tired of this . . . Whether they ultimately gave up their life of crime or not is something of which I have no knowledge." Kuby also insisted, "I'm not good friends with John Gotti Jr. I'm not even friends with him."
Of his next broadcast with Sliwa, he said, "On Monday, we go in and continue to try to do good radio."
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