Saturday, December 15, 2007

Will the Chicago Outfit Assign Hitmen to Compose 'Trunk Music' Against the Writers Guild?

Daily Variety editor-in-chief Peter Bart has come up with a novel idea to end the six-week-old writers’ strike – bring in the Chicago mafia to whack a few leaders of the striking Writers Guild.

In a column that ran in Daily Variety on Dec.10 under the headline “A way to settle so it’s all in the ‘family’” – with the word ‘family’ in quotes to make sure we all know he’s talking about the Mafia – Bart writes: “OK. I’ll admit it: I was once on reasonably friendly terms with Sidney Korshak” – the Chicago mafia’s man in Hollywood for more than 50 years.

Korshak, who was the go-to guy for the late-Universal Studios mogul Lew Wasserman when contract talks stalled, was a master of “the trade-off,” according to Bart, although in fact, Korshak was even more the master of a quite different art – the art of the implied death threat.

“Korshak died 11 years ago,” Bart writes, “but had he been alive today, he would have been dismayed by the state of disarray in Hollywood. The writers and show-runners don’t seem to appreciate what management has done for them, he would have declared. And the companies similarly seem to have lost their talent at hard bargaining.

“Korshak surely would have enhanced the proposed compensation for digital downloads (one of the sticking points in the contract talks), and had his offer not been embraced, a few individuals might have been downloaded as well. Peace would prevail.”

Here, by ‘downloaded,’ Bart apparently means whacked; and by “a few individuals,” he assumedly means union leaders, since they are the ones to whom contract offers are generally made.

“Does he know what century we’re in?” asked an astonished member of the WGA’s hierarchy. “Next he’ll be calling on Pinkerton agents to fire into our picket lines.”

Of course, Bart, who is a longtime member of the Writers Guild, may be just joking around – showing off the tough-guy image he has of himself, which is something he’s known to do on occasion. But a reasonable reader might ask: Is this anything for the editor of a newspaper to joke about during an increasingly tense strike?

Joking or not, whacking troublesome Hollywood union leaders is something that Korshak’s friends in the Chicago syndicate were known to do once in a while. One famous case was the murder of Willie Bioff, the #2 guy in the one of Hollywood most powerful unions, who in 1943 publicly identified Sid Korshak as the mob’s man in Hollywood.

Korshak’s ties to the Chicago mob go all the way back to the 1930s and the days of Al Capone. In 1943, his name came up during the sensational trial of some of Chicago’s top mobsters on charges that they’d extorted more than $1 million dollars from Hollywood’s movie studios. Unlike today, however, back then Daily Variety had an editor named Arthur Unger who wasn’t so cozy with the mafia, and who bravely crusaded against the mob, writing editorials in which he called on Hollywood to run the gangsters out of town.

The scandal began in the late 1930s when the Chicago mob seized control of one of Hollywood’s most powerful unions - the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees, which represents most of the behind-the-scenes workers in show business.

Frank Nitti, who was running the outfit while Capone was serving time for income tax evasion, controlled the union’s bosses, including Willie Bioff, who was finally indicted on charges of extorting money from the studios in exchange for labor peace.

During the trial, Korshak’s name came up when Bioff testified that he had been introduced to Korshak by one of the mob defendants, who had said: “Willie, meet Sidney Korshak. He is our man. . . . Any messages he might deliver to you is a message from us.”

Nitti had killed himself shortly after being indicted, and a lot of top mob guys went to jail, including Johnnie Roselli and Paul “The Waiter” Ricca. And in 1955, a decade after he was released from prison, Bioff was blown to pieces by a car bomb, which in those days was a signature mob hit.

Korshak, who was once described as “the toughest lawyer in America,” was never charged with any crime, and moved easily between gangsters and movie moguls. Though not licensed to practice law in California, where he lived for many years, Korshak served as an adviser to many of the top Hollywood studios. And at the same time, authorities said, he was also an adviser to such mob figures as Tony “Big Tuna” Accardo, Sam Giancana, Lucky Luciano, Meyer Lansky and Gus Alex.

In 1978, the California attorney general’s Organized Crime Control Commission issued a report that called Korshak “the key link between organized crime and big business,” noting that he was a “senior adviser” to organized crime groups in California, Chicago, Las Vegas and New York. In a rare interview, Korshak denied the allegations. “I’ve never been cited, let alone indicted, for anything,” Korshak told the Los Angeles Herald Examiner in 1978.

In Hollywood, Korshak helped broker numerous deals for some of the top studios. In 1973, he mediated in the negotiations that led to the sale of MGM’s theaters and properties in its overseas markets to Cinema International Corp., a joint venture between MCA and Paramount. MCA chairman Lew Wasserman and Charles Bluhdorn, whose Gulf & Western owned Paramount, personally negotiated the deal with MGM owner Kirk Kerkorian - with Korshak as mediator.

Bart knew Korshak back in those days, too – back when Bart was second-in-command at Paramount Studios in the 1970s – back when Korshak was the mentor of Bart’s mentor – Robert Evans, who was head of production at Paramount.

“Sidney (Korshak) was in my office every day for 10 years,” Evans said in an interview for my L.A. Weekly cover story about Bart in 1994. “There’s not a day that went by when I was in Los Angeles that Sidney wasn’t there…Sidney and Peter and I spent a lot of time together. They never broke bread. But, you know, Peter was my right-hand guy and Sid was my consigliere, so naturally they met.”

In his book, “The Kid Stays in the Picture,” Evans wrote that Korshak “was not only my consigliere, but my godfather and closest friend . . . my lifelong protector.”

Bart, whose coverage of the strike has been criticized for toadying up to management, was a newspaperman in the 1960s before he joined Evans and Korshak in running Paramount Studios. In 1990, Bart actually boasted in an article for Gentlemen’s Quarterly that he carried a gun while covering riots in Los Angeles for The New York Times in the mid-1960s. “I carried a gun in my last days at The Times,” he said, claiming that he had twice been shot at while covering a race riot. “My philosophy was: If a man’s going to shoot at me, he’s going to get it right fucking back. I was a good shot. But it was not Times policy.” (Nor is it the policy of any newspaper in the country.)

And he says he wasn’t joking about having shot people during the Watts Riots. When asked about this in 1994, he told LA Weekly that the gun he used was taken from him “by an L.A. cop who was chasing somebody that ran past. He said, ‘Hey, Pete, do you have a gun? And I said, ‘Yes.’ And he said, ‘Hand it to me.’ That’s the last I saw of that goddamn gun.”

So maybe he’s kidding about killing union leaders, and maybe he’s exaggerating about shooting black people during the Watts riot. But either way, maybe the Writers Guild should ask: Why is this guy still a member of this union? Isn’t there some bylaw against members advocating the murder of Writers Guild leaders – especially during a strike?

Thanks to David Robb

Magazines.com, Inc.

Federal Case for Sopranos Sequel

Tony Soprano never had to sing in court. But the brains behind the mobster is ready to take the stand.

David Chase turned up Wednesday in a federal courtroom Trenton, New Jersey, for a trial that will determine whether the Sopranos mastermind got help dreaming up the series from a former gavel-banger.

The outcome, or any financial award, will be decided by a jury of seven women and one man, who were seated during the morning session. Two would-be jurors were given the boot after they admitted to being huge fans of the HBO hit, which, literally, went black earlier this season.

Chase sat at the defense table, flanked by his wife and his legal team.

Robert Baer, who toiled as a municipal court judge in Prospect Park, New Jersey, filed suit in 2002, claiming he's due some serious clams for coming up with key elements of The Sopranos.

A federal judge twice dismissed the complaint on the grounds that the deal between him and Chase was too vague to be binding.

Both times, however, an appeals court overturned the decisions by U.S. District Judge Joel Pisano and reinstated the complaint. The appellate panel did agree with several of Pisano's points, though, and allowed the lower court judge to limit the case's scope.

Per his breach-of-contract suit, Baer claims he and Chase met for lunch in California in 1995 and discussed the idea for The Sopranos. During their conversation, Baer says he gave a thorough debriefing about his days as an assistant DA targeting Mafia types and suggested colorful locales to set the show.

"He proposed the idea about doing the show about the north Jersey Mafia," Baer's lawyer, Harley Breite, told the Asbury Park Press. "He's looking to be compensated for the value of what he did, the services and assistance he provided to Mr. Chase."

Breite says Chase kept in touch with Baer and frequently used him as an expert consultant on questions about organized crime. Chase even sent Baer a draft of The Sopranos pilot to weigh in on, the attorney claims.

Baer also claims to have introduced Chase to detectives on the mob beat. Among his most significant suggestions, Baer alleges, were that Tony and his crew hang out a local pork store and have an older Jewish character as an adviser.

Breite says that when Baer tried to contact Chase after The Sopranos was picked up by HBO, the producer never returned his calls.

According to Chase though, Baer can fuhgeddaboud trying to claim credit for the most honored drama in cable TV history.

Calling Baer's lawsuit "grossly distorted, petulant and self-aggrandizing," Chase says the former judge provided only a "modest service." And while he admits sending the ex-judge a copy of The Sopranos episode in court papers, Chase says the former judge didn't submit "a single suggestion for improvement of [his] script."

The producer has also stated that he had come up with the concept five years prior to his lunch date with Baer and was "keenly aware" of the subject, having spent his childhood in the Garden State.

The plot-poaching trial is expected to last five days.

Thanks to Josh Grossberg

Sopranos Store

Friday, December 14, 2007

Would the Mob Control a City of Chicago Casino?

Cities across the country have looked to casinos as a way to generate money, but Chicago is going a step further. There's a movement in Illinois to allow Chicago to actually go into the casino business. Under the deal, Chicago would own and operate a casino, making it the first municipality in the country to do so. Given Chicago's history with the mob, gambling and corruption, the plan is raising more than a few eyebrows.

Ben Calhoun's audio report provides more details and includes comments from Mayor Daley, Chicago Crime Commission President Jim Wagner and author Richard Wagner, who has written several books about Chicago.

Once you listen to the report, you can vote in a Chicago Crime Commission poll on the topic.

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Mob Trial Ends in Aquittal for Pizza Maker

In a stunning reversal of fortune, a Brooklyn jury Thursday night acquitted a pizza maker of cooking up a plan to gun down a mob loanshark and his cousin.

Carmine Polito, 48, whose 2003 federal conviction in the case was overturned on a technicality, is free and clear after a five-week trial in Brooklyn Supreme Court - where one of the victims and two accomplices testified against him.

"Obviously there is no justice," said Assunta Rozza, whose brother Sabato (Tino) Lombardi was killed and cousin Michael (Cookie) D'Urso wounded in the 1994 attack at a Williamsburg social club. "This mother------ is going to have Christmas with his family - and my brother never will," she said, adding that she thought jurors were afraid because the case involved mobsters.

She also said she thought Brooklyn Supreme Court Justice Joel Goldberg disallowed too much evidence.

The judge will decide the fate of Polito's co-defendant, Mario Fortunato, 60, whose federal conviction also was overturned.

"This is a big win. It's a huge upset," said Polito's gleeful lawyer, Gerald McMahon, who fought a contentious battle and very nearly came to blows with prosecutor Christopher Blank during a break in the action last week. "These guys were so confident they wouldn't even offer a serious plea" deal, said McMahon, who had blasted the three main witnesses.

D'Urso joined the main shooter and the getaway driver in testifying against Polito and Fortunato.

Prosecutors said the pair organized the hit because Polito owed money to the Genovese-connected Lombardi and Fortunato wanted to settle an old score with D'Urso.

The evidence was considered stronger against Polito than Fortunato, who chose a bench trial before Goldberg.

"These three guys were two crackheads and a wanna-be [mobster]," McMahon said. "Juries are looking at these types of cases [based on accomplice testimony] a little more carefully now."

The federal case came after D'Urso entered the witness protection program and helped convict about 40 Genovese crime family members, including the late boss Vincent (Chin) Gigante, then Polito and Fortunato.

Goldberg is expected to render his opinion in the Fortunato case Friday.

Thanks to Scott Shifrel

One Year of Online Backup from Carbonite Holiday Offer

Monday, December 10, 2007

Big Pussy is Not Dead, He's in Chicago

When you play a guy on TV named Big Pussy, you have big problems. People yell that name in the most inconvenient places -- in quiet bookstores, in churches, in restaurants. Actor Vincent Pastore, one of the most popular members of Tony's crew on "The Sopranos" before being whacked at the end of the second season, puts it like this: "Big Pussy is my nickname for the rest of my life. My friends even made up a T-shirt. Big Pussy is not dead. He's in Chicago."

That means he's in the musical "Chicago" on Broadway alongside Aida Turturro, who played Tony Soprano's sister Janice in the HBO mob series. Pastore's latest role is in Guy Ritchie's new film "Revolver," where he plays a con man. He's also doing a stint on the new "Celebrity Apprentice," debuting in January on NBC, and he has his own Sirius radio show.

1. What was it like to work with Guy Ritchie in "Revolver"? My Wines Direct DECSAVE

It was unbelievably great. Now Guy, [co-star] Jason [Statham] and I are friends. We're like the Three Musketeers now. When we did the movie, I really listened to Guy. The script was a different type of script for me -- something to bite into and work on. I liked my character because he was different. Not to give too much away, but he's a con man and something beyond that.

2. Were you nervous singing and dancing on stage the first time on Broadway in "Chicago"?

The acting I love. I'll act with a grapefruit. That doesn't bother me. Thank God I got my friends here in New York helping me with the singing and dancing for the show. I get more and more confident with each show. As the shows go along, I improve. Now it's like "Sopranos" go to Broadway with Aida and me on that stage. People are loving it. We come out and there are cheers and people waiting backstage with "Sopranos" stuff for us to sign. I think my friends from the show will come soon. I know Jim Gandolfini is coming. Lorraine [Bracco] is coming.

3. Tell us about your role on "Celebrity Apprentice." How was it being hired or fired by Donald Trump?

Donald is the boss. That's all I can say. ... We signed some crazy contract. If I tell you what happened they take my thumbs off. I can say that one day we sold hot dogs on a New York street corner. Me and Gene Simmons selling dogs. We sold a lot of hot dogs.

4. What did you think of the controversial, fade-to-black "Sopranos" finale?

I talked to ["Sopranos" creator] David Chase about the ending and he said he didn't want Tony to die. People talk about that ending with me now all the time. I figure it this way: If Tony would have went into witness protection, people wouldn't be talking about it that much. David did a good job.

5. We know your Big Pussy is swimming with the fishes, but can't he come back in dream sequences in a "Sopranos" movie? By the way, any news on that front?

To tell you the truth, I think David did that ending to keep it open. David can do what he wants to do now. A lot of the characters are still alive. I don't think Silvio Dante [Steven Van Zandt, who was shot and in a coma] died, either. He can wake up. The movie could be flashbacks of Tony and the guys sitting at the meat store. You could pick it up from Tony's childhood. I'm hopeful. I love those guys.

Thanks to Cindy Pearlman

Mob Influence on Tennis Worries John McEnroe

US tennis legend John McEnroe expressed his concern on Friday that organised crime, such as the Russian mafia, could be infiltrating tennis.

The former world number one believes that threats to tennis players or their families could be forcing them into throwing matches. "The thing that worries me is that mafia types, like the Russian mafia, could be involved. That's potentially pretty dark and scary," McEnroe told The Daily Telegraph. "I think that's the side that people aren't really looking at with these match-fixing stories. Someone may have threatened the players, and they are put in a situation. I'm guessing that could happen. That would make more sense to me than top players throwing a match for money.

"Throwing a match for money would be stupid, as you would be risking losing what you've worked for your whole life. It seems crazy that players would take that risk for money. It would make more sense that they've been threatened in some way and that's why they're doing it."

Russian Nikolay Davydenko, the world number four, is being investigated by the ATP after a defeat in Poland in August while Italian Alessio di Mauro was suspended for nine months for betting on matches and Philipp Kohlschreiber has had to defend himself of accusations of match-fixing in the German press.

"With a high-ranked guy like Davydenko, he's making so much money to begin with that he'd be risking so much by doing it, as if you get caught you should be banned for life," McEnroe said. "But it's pretty tough to prove that someone has thrown a match unless you're tapping the guy's phone or something."

But some of the lower-ranked players in men's tennis could be tempted by bribe money, McEnroe said.

"I think this issue has to be closely looked at, because it's very conceivable that it's happening. There are guys out there who are 100 in the world, 200 in the world, and they're making 50,000 pounds a year.

"And if someone says that they'll give you 50,000 pounds, so your entire year's money, I think there's a strong possibility that they have taken the money, without a doubt," McEnroe said.

"There is definitely temptation for people. It's becoming more of a drama because there's more money in sports."

InterstateBatteries.com

Mafia Princess Finds God

I was a mafia princess. I know—it sounds like something straight out of The Sopranos, dangerous and exciting. The truth is much less glamorous, and I don't look back on any of it with relish. In fact, I'd prefer to keep those now-unpleasant memories safely locked away, out of sight and mind. But God's voice whispers, Good can still come from the past, Barbara, if you'll just release it. So I trust and obey.

What's wrong with me?
I grew up with a father who was a chronic alcoholic and all the chaos that accompanies that addiction. Even more painful, I was sexually abused from the age of 7 until I was 12 years old. Because abuse and dysfunction became a part of my life at such an early age, I equated them with normalcy and love. As a young adult, I sought this kind of love wherever I could find it.

In 1980 I was 20 years old and working as a cocktail waitress in a seedy nightclub in Texas. I was attractive, intelligent, and capable of doing much more with my life. But with only a high school education and a lifetime of diminished self-worth, I figured it was the best I could hope for.
Secret Behind the Secret 120x600
I liked not having to think through each day. If I didn't think, I didn't need to wrestle with the morality of my behavior—which, I reasoned, was a natural consequence of my messed-up childhood. The things I indulged in—promiscuity, alcohol, drugs—dependably silenced questions that had nagged me for years: Why can't somebody really love me? What's wrong with me that I can't seem to ever do the right thing? My destructive behaviors were like a cooing mother, soothing my troubles away: "There, there, everything's going to be just fine." That peace, unfortunately, was counterfeit and my need for it grew insatiable.

Meeting "Papa"
Not long after I started my job, a strikingly charismatic man came into the nightclub. He had a boxer's physique, a nose that looked to have been broken multiple times, olive skin, silver hair and beard, and piercing, slate-blue eyes.

"That's Papa," one of the girls whispered. "He's the owner."

"Papa" turned out to be Antonio Palermo (not his real name), a street-smart Italian from New York City. Papa didn't try to look tough; he was tough. He was the quintessential Mafia ideal—he dressed smartly, drove a late-model Cadillac, wore expensive jewelry, threw money around, and most of all, commanded respect.

Mafia members have subliminal ways of exuding their clout. Like a predator, they use a potent blend of machismo, ego, and a palpable lack of fear. They trace invisible lines around themselves that no one had better cross, unless invited. I was. Tony pursued me and wooed me, and I naively believed that it was love.

Tony made me feel, for the first time in my life, there was somebody strong enough to keep the monsters that had consistently haunted me at bay. "No man will ever hurt you again," he'd assure me. Desperate to believe, I eventually married him.

Pampered and privileged
Tony owned adult bookstores and arcades. Daily a white van, driven by a quietly menacing guy named Dave, would pull up to our condo with the day's take. Bags of money were counted—spoils from needy consumers dependent upon the many forms of sexual depravity the bookstores provided. I didn't let myself think about how those stores could be hurting other people—husbands, fathers, sons. What mattered was that for the first time in my life, I had all the money I wanted. I was certain I'd found the answer to all my problems.

All that money allowed Tony and I to live an extravagant—and sometimes self-destructive—lifestyle. One day he introduced me to a friend whose influence I spent agonizing years trying to escape—cocaine. I call the drug Tony's friend, but really, it was his Lord. He cowered to it in a way he never submitted to anyone else. Discovering cocaine sealed my former commitment to substance abuse, and now I had all the funds I needed to feed my habit.

Tony and I took exotic vacations and rarely ate at home. In fact, as in any good mobster story, there was a typical Italian restaurant where we dined several times a week. The owners were Italian immigrants filled with their homeland's deference for La Cosa Nostra (the Mafia). It didn't matter what time of day or night we came in, they were always eager to serve, with a table available. We were privileged and pampered to a disgusting degree.

No Marlon Brando
Deep down I knew Tony was capable of doing unspeakable things, yet somehow I separated the doting husband from the cold deviant. I deluded myself into believing that all the stories of Mob brutality and killings were just myth, telling myself that Tony was like Marlon Brando in The Godfather, a loveable patriarch whose cruel acts were ultimately just. That brand of justice, however, can only be reconciled by ignoring God's command to leave vengeance in His hands. By refusing to face this truth, I drifted further and further away from the God I had learned about as a child.

Faithfulness and honesty are not Mafia ethics, so it shouldn't have surprised me that Tony had affairs. To his peers, monogamy would have been viewed not as a virtue, but a weakness. According to the Italian Old-World influence, wives are highly regarded and usually isolated. But girlfriends, it's understood, are an important mark of gangster virility. Still, I was hurt every time I knew he'd been with another woman.

"B.J.," he'd say with his most charming smile, "you know I can't be with just you, but I do love only you."

I tried to convince myself that frequent champagne lunches with the girls, frenetic shopping sprees, exorbitant gifts from my husband, and other consolation prizes, were enough. They weren't. I wanted and needed love, not accoutrements. I'd thought I'd found that with Tony; realizing I'd been mistaken was a bitter pill to swallow.

The last straw
The more I pressured Tony to become the faithful husband, the more he pulled away. Finally I gave him an ultimatum—me, or those other girls. I was certain if forced to make a choice, he would pick me. But I was deluded.

"Please Tony," I begged, "Can't we try to make it work?"

There are two things that neither Tony nor his type could ever stomach—vulnerability and humility. My pleading proved to be the last straw in our troubled relationship.

I'll never forget that day and the look in Tony's eyes when he told me it would never, could never work. It was the first time I'd seen that steely coldness, always directed toward others, trained on me. It seemed as if he'd turned off a switch inside, then walked away without a shred of remorse.

For Tony, divorce was a far lesser evil than monogamy. He couldn't have a "broad" telling him what to do, especially one that wasn't even Italian.

We kept in touch for a few years after separating. In retrospect, I think it was just so he could keep an eye on me. He most likely suspected that the FBI might come calling—and they did. Though I didn't know anything to tell them, Tony adhered to the old adage: Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

After the divorce I continued to stumble through life, growing wearier and wearier, making a concerted effort to kill the person I hated inside of me with whatever chemicals I could get my hands on. Although I had, in my childhood, known Jesus, I felt we'd turned our backs on each other long ago.

Embraced by the Father
Five years after my divorce, I met someone very special—my present husband, Joe Cueto. Despite the countless mistakes I'd made, I knew instantly he was the man God always had intended for me to marry. But while he satisfied the deep need for genuine love I'd always sought from a man, a void still remained deep inside me.

Then, in January 1991, my mother invited me to go on a church retreat. That entire weekend I felt as though God was welcoming me with the tender embrace of an adoring Father. Every meal served was my favorite dish. Even Mother teasingly remarked, "Well, it seems like God is trying to make this extra special for you." One night there was a healing service, and Christ mended a throbbing toe I'd injured. Even more amazing, however, He healed my wounded spirit. When I joyfully accepted His offer to come into my life, I knew I was finally home!

Step by step, through painful rehabilitation, Jesus delivered me from all my addictions. Slowly I came to understand that the deep psychological wounds of my childhood had caused me to become numb. The methods I used to shield myself from the pain—drugs, alcohol, and even my life with Tony—had only increased it. But God loved and didn't forget that hurt little girl; He saved me from myself. Though I deserve to be His slave forever, He made me His Princess.

When God first compelled me to share my story, some well-meaning loved ones—knowing the Mob's reputation for guarding its privacy—asked if I feared for my life. The answer is a resounding no. I was dead before, but God graciously, miraculously, brought me back to life. Now I know I need never fear death again.

Thanks to Barbara Cueto