The first defendant to be sentenced in the Family Secrets mob conspiracy case was given 20 years in prison by a federal judge today, the maximum amount of time he could receive for his role in the conspiracy.
Paul "the Indian" Schiro had appeared emotionless during the landmark 2007 trial, but addressed U.S. District Judge James Zagel briefly today as he was about to learn his punishment.
Schiro accused Assistant U.S. Atty. Markus Funk of "misquoting things," and said he had no idea why the jury had found him guilty. "I went to trial with co-defendants I never met in my life," Schiro said.
Zagel said there was plenty of evidence linking Schiro to the conspiracy, and to the 1986 murder of Emil Vaci. The jury had been unable to reach a verdict blaming Schiro for that killing, but Zagel said Schiro had been involved.
He likened Schiro to a sleeper agent who was an Outfit associate allowed to carry out his own burglary activity. But Schiro never hesitated when asked to help kill Vaci, who was shot to death in Arizona after he began being interviewed by a grand jury.
"There was no evidence of his hesitation," Zagel said. "He was available."
Four others were convicted in the case, and their sentencings are set to begin within days, beginning Wednesday with Frank Calabrese Sr. The defendants were accused in a decades-long conspiracy that included 18 gangland killings.
Thanks to Jeff Coen
Monday, January 26, 2009
Informer: The Journal of American Mafia History - January Issue
The January 2009 issue of
INFORMER:
INFORMER:
The Journal of American Mafia History
is available now.
is available now.
CONTENTS
- Martyr: Lieutenant Joseph Petrosino
- The Mob's Worst Year: 1957, Part 2 of 2
- Kansas City Mafia Membership, 1910s-1940s
- Author Interview with Scott Deitche
- Book Review of Ouseley's Open City
- Ask the Informer: Pollaccia, Society of the Banana
- Top 10 Mob News Stories of 2008
- Deaths: Rosenthal, Scala, Valenti, Spero.
Informer is also available for purchase as a preprinted and bound magazine delivered to your home.
Print subscriptions: http://mafiainformer.blogspot.com/
Single copy preview/purchase: http://magcloud.com/browse/Issue/5921
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Operation Family Secrets Mob Trial Sentencing to Continue This Week
Federal agents tried for more than three decades to penetrate the deepest secrets of Chicago's organized crime family -- the names of those responsible for 18 ruthless murders aimed at silencing witnesses and meting out mob vengeance. They even called the investigation Operation Family Secrets.
Their patience was rewarded six years ago when a mob hit man began to spill the family secrets as part of a deal to keep himself out of the execution chamber. And starting this week, three aging dons of the Chicago underworld convicted in September 2007 as a result of that testimony are due to receive long sentences -- quite likely life.
Two alleged henchmen also convicted after the 10-week Family Secrets trial are expected to get long sentences as well.
"These were the main guys who ran the crime syndicate -- they were ruthless, they were absolutely ruthless," says retired police detective Al Egan, also a former longtime member of an FBI-led organized crime task force.
Wisecracking mob boss Joseph "Joey the Clown" Lombardo, 80; convicted loan shark and hit man Frank Calabrese Sr., 71; and James Marcello, 66, all face a maximum of punishment of life in prison.
Former Chicago police officer Anthony Doyle, 64, and convicted jewel thief Paul Schiro, 71, weren't convicted of any murders but the jury found them guilty of participating in what prosecutors say was a long-running conspiracy that included killings, gambling, loan-sharking and squeezing businesses for "street tax."
The case is a major success for the FBI in its war on the mob.
"It led to the removal or displacement of some of the most capable guys in organized crime," says author John Binder whose book, "The Chicago Outfit," tells the story of organized crime in the nation's third largest city. And it sends a strong message to members of organized crime: Do you really want to be the guy at the top? Because we're going to get you in the future."
Lombardo is the most colorful defendant. He was sent to federal prison in the 1980s for conspiring with International Brotherhood of Teamsters President Roy Lee Williams and union pension fund manager Allen Dorfman to bribe Sen. Howard Cannon, D-Nev., to help defeat a trucking deregulation bill. Cannon was never charged with any wrongdoing and the bill became law with his support.
When Lombardo got out, he resumed life as the boss of the mob's Grand Avenue street crew, prosecutors say. He denies it but his attorney, Rick Halprin, told the trial he ran "the oldest and most reliable floating craps game on Grand Avenue."
When the Family Secrets indictment was unsealed, Lombardo went on the lam for nine months. And when he was brought before Zagel, the irrepressible clown quickly lived up to his nickname. The judge asked him why he had not seen a doctor lately.
"I was supposed to see him nine months ago," Lombardo rasped, "but I was -- what do they call it? -- I was unavailable."
"A little joke now and then never hurts," he told the trial. But the jury found him responsible for gunning down a federal witness.
The jury also found Calabrese responsible for seven murders.
His own brother, Nicholas Calabrese, 66, testified that Frank liked to strangle victims with a rope and slash their throats to make sure they were dead.
Nicholas Calabrese became the government's star witness after he dropped a bloody glove near the scene of a mob murder. He agreed to talk out of fear that agents would match his DNA to that on the glove and he would be sentenced to death.
Among other things, he said his brother Frank liked to give names to their mob hits.
One was known as "Strangers in the Night," he testified. That was because the Frank Sinatra song was playing on the jukebox while two men were strangled in 1978 in a suburban Cicero restaurant.
Marcello was at one time the mob's big boss, according to federal investigators.
The jury held him among those responsible for the murder of Anthony "Tony the Ant" Spilotro, at one time the Chicago mob's man in Las Vegas and the inspiration for the Joe Pesci character in the movie "Casino."
Spilotro and his brother Michael were found buried in a shallow grave in an Indiana cornfield.
Doyle is the only one of those convicted at the trial who is not accused of direct involvement in the murders.
Schiro was sentenced to prison for 5 1/2 years in 2002 for being part of a gang of jewel thieves run by the former chief of detectives of the Chicago police department, William Hanhardt. Prosecutors claimed he was to blame for a mob hit in Phoenix. But the jury deadlocked on the case.
Nicholas Calabrese is to be sentenced Feb. 23.
Thanks to CBS2
Their patience was rewarded six years ago when a mob hit man began to spill the family secrets as part of a deal to keep himself out of the execution chamber. And starting this week, three aging dons of the Chicago underworld convicted in September 2007 as a result of that testimony are due to receive long sentences -- quite likely life.
Two alleged henchmen also convicted after the 10-week Family Secrets trial are expected to get long sentences as well.
"These were the main guys who ran the crime syndicate -- they were ruthless, they were absolutely ruthless," says retired police detective Al Egan, also a former longtime member of an FBI-led organized crime task force.
Wisecracking mob boss Joseph "Joey the Clown" Lombardo, 80; convicted loan shark and hit man Frank Calabrese Sr., 71; and James Marcello, 66, all face a maximum of punishment of life in prison.
Former Chicago police officer Anthony Doyle, 64, and convicted jewel thief Paul Schiro, 71, weren't convicted of any murders but the jury found them guilty of participating in what prosecutors say was a long-running conspiracy that included killings, gambling, loan-sharking and squeezing businesses for "street tax."
The case is a major success for the FBI in its war on the mob.
"It led to the removal or displacement of some of the most capable guys in organized crime," says author John Binder whose book, "The Chicago Outfit," tells the story of organized crime in the nation's third largest city. And it sends a strong message to members of organized crime: Do you really want to be the guy at the top? Because we're going to get you in the future."
Lombardo is the most colorful defendant. He was sent to federal prison in the 1980s for conspiring with International Brotherhood of Teamsters President Roy Lee Williams and union pension fund manager Allen Dorfman to bribe Sen. Howard Cannon, D-Nev., to help defeat a trucking deregulation bill. Cannon was never charged with any wrongdoing and the bill became law with his support.
When Lombardo got out, he resumed life as the boss of the mob's Grand Avenue street crew, prosecutors say. He denies it but his attorney, Rick Halprin, told the trial he ran "the oldest and most reliable floating craps game on Grand Avenue."
When the Family Secrets indictment was unsealed, Lombardo went on the lam for nine months. And when he was brought before Zagel, the irrepressible clown quickly lived up to his nickname. The judge asked him why he had not seen a doctor lately.
"I was supposed to see him nine months ago," Lombardo rasped, "but I was -- what do they call it? -- I was unavailable."
"A little joke now and then never hurts," he told the trial. But the jury found him responsible for gunning down a federal witness.
The jury also found Calabrese responsible for seven murders.
His own brother, Nicholas Calabrese, 66, testified that Frank liked to strangle victims with a rope and slash their throats to make sure they were dead.
Nicholas Calabrese became the government's star witness after he dropped a bloody glove near the scene of a mob murder. He agreed to talk out of fear that agents would match his DNA to that on the glove and he would be sentenced to death.
Among other things, he said his brother Frank liked to give names to their mob hits.
One was known as "Strangers in the Night," he testified. That was because the Frank Sinatra song was playing on the jukebox while two men were strangled in 1978 in a suburban Cicero restaurant.
Marcello was at one time the mob's big boss, according to federal investigators.
The jury held him among those responsible for the murder of Anthony "Tony the Ant" Spilotro, at one time the Chicago mob's man in Las Vegas and the inspiration for the Joe Pesci character in the movie "Casino."
Spilotro and his brother Michael were found buried in a shallow grave in an Indiana cornfield.
Doyle is the only one of those convicted at the trial who is not accused of direct involvement in the murders.
Schiro was sentenced to prison for 5 1/2 years in 2002 for being part of a gang of jewel thieves run by the former chief of detectives of the Chicago police department, William Hanhardt. Prosecutors claimed he was to blame for a mob hit in Phoenix. But the jury deadlocked on the case.
Nicholas Calabrese is to be sentenced Feb. 23.
Thanks to CBS2
Blagojevich's Brother Tied to Betty Loren-Maltese
His last name is Blagojevich but his first name is Robert. He's the older brother of the embattled Illinois governor.
Who is Robert Blagojevich and why was the FBI listening to his cell phone calls?
Robert Blagojevich has been his 'brother's keeper' since last August or at least the keeper of his brother's multi-million dollar campaign fund, a political fund that Robert Blagojevich's lawyer says is likely to be indicted before it's all over.
The I-Team found that one of the most puzzling questions about the governor's brother concerns someone else's campaign fund.
On election night 2002, when Rod Blagojevich watched the returns roll in and won his first term as Illinois governor, brother Robert was there with him. But at the same time, according to state election records, Robert's financial services firm had an interest in another Illinois elected official, Betty Loren Maltese.
Maltese is the controversial and now imprisoned mayor of Cicero.
For more than two years, Maltese' bulging campaign fund had invested millions of dollars through a company headquartered in Tampa, Florida, the firm Invest Financial Corporation. Its CEO at the time was Robert Blagojevich, the governor's older brother.
State records show that between July of 2000 and September of 2002, Robert Blagojevich's company paid Maltese' campaign fund nearly $3.3 million. The dozens of entries are listed as investment dividends, interest and proceeds from the sale of U.S. Treasury bills.
Some of the investment payments from Robert Blagojevich's company occurred even after Mayor Maltese was convicted of swindling $12 million from the town through an insurance firm.
Lawyer Michael Ettinger, who represents the governor's brother in the current federal investigation, was unaware of the link to Betty Loren Maltese.
On Wednesday at the I-Team's request, Ettinger had Robert Blagojevich review the state records and Blagojevich reported that "he knows nothing about it" and that the investments must have been made by some other affiliated bank even though his was listed 41 times.
Since taking over as chairman of his brother's campaign fund, Robert Blagojevich has been paid $12,500 a month.
The FBI listened to as many as 50 phone calls between Robert, his brother the governor and others. Many of the calls were from Nashville, Tennessee where Robert Blagojevich lives in a stately colonial. The former U.S. Army commander is a real estate developer there, and a key fundraiser and board member for the YMCA.
"Selfless person, doesn't want recognition. Actually would rather not have it," said Michael Check, Nashville YMCA. But when federal authorities charged the governor last month, his brother was "fundraiser a" in the criminal complaint. In one conversation the governor allegedly told his brother that he wanted to collect cash upfront for the appointment to Barack Obama's Senate seat.
It was just a few months earlier, in May, that Robert Blagojevich gave the commencement speech at his alma mater, University of Tampa.
Oddly, even though his brother the governor also attended University of Tampa, Robert did not once utter his brother's name during the speech.
As for the Betty Loren Maltese financial affair, there are Blagojevich family ties to the crooked mayor of Cicero.
Governor Blagojevich and ex-mayor Maltese have one friend in common: Eddie Vrdolyak, the former Chicago alderman and longtime village attorney in Cicero. Gov. Blagojevich's first job was as a clerk in Vrdolyak's law firm and it was a relationship that rekindled when Blagojevich was elected governor. Vyrdolyak himself is now headed to federal prison for a kickback scheme involving one of the governor's top appointees.
Thanks to Chuck Goudie
Who is Robert Blagojevich and why was the FBI listening to his cell phone calls?
Robert Blagojevich has been his 'brother's keeper' since last August or at least the keeper of his brother's multi-million dollar campaign fund, a political fund that Robert Blagojevich's lawyer says is likely to be indicted before it's all over.
The I-Team found that one of the most puzzling questions about the governor's brother concerns someone else's campaign fund.
On election night 2002, when Rod Blagojevich watched the returns roll in and won his first term as Illinois governor, brother Robert was there with him. But at the same time, according to state election records, Robert's financial services firm had an interest in another Illinois elected official, Betty Loren Maltese.
Maltese is the controversial and now imprisoned mayor of Cicero.
For more than two years, Maltese' bulging campaign fund had invested millions of dollars through a company headquartered in Tampa, Florida, the firm Invest Financial Corporation. Its CEO at the time was Robert Blagojevich, the governor's older brother.
State records show that between July of 2000 and September of 2002, Robert Blagojevich's company paid Maltese' campaign fund nearly $3.3 million. The dozens of entries are listed as investment dividends, interest and proceeds from the sale of U.S. Treasury bills.
Some of the investment payments from Robert Blagojevich's company occurred even after Mayor Maltese was convicted of swindling $12 million from the town through an insurance firm.
Lawyer Michael Ettinger, who represents the governor's brother in the current federal investigation, was unaware of the link to Betty Loren Maltese.
On Wednesday at the I-Team's request, Ettinger had Robert Blagojevich review the state records and Blagojevich reported that "he knows nothing about it" and that the investments must have been made by some other affiliated bank even though his was listed 41 times.
Since taking over as chairman of his brother's campaign fund, Robert Blagojevich has been paid $12,500 a month.
The FBI listened to as many as 50 phone calls between Robert, his brother the governor and others. Many of the calls were from Nashville, Tennessee where Robert Blagojevich lives in a stately colonial. The former U.S. Army commander is a real estate developer there, and a key fundraiser and board member for the YMCA.
"Selfless person, doesn't want recognition. Actually would rather not have it," said Michael Check, Nashville YMCA. But when federal authorities charged the governor last month, his brother was "fundraiser a" in the criminal complaint. In one conversation the governor allegedly told his brother that he wanted to collect cash upfront for the appointment to Barack Obama's Senate seat.
It was just a few months earlier, in May, that Robert Blagojevich gave the commencement speech at his alma mater, University of Tampa.
Oddly, even though his brother the governor also attended University of Tampa, Robert did not once utter his brother's name during the speech.
As for the Betty Loren Maltese financial affair, there are Blagojevich family ties to the crooked mayor of Cicero.
Governor Blagojevich and ex-mayor Maltese have one friend in common: Eddie Vrdolyak, the former Chicago alderman and longtime village attorney in Cicero. Gov. Blagojevich's first job was as a clerk in Vrdolyak's law firm and it was a relationship that rekindled when Blagojevich was elected governor. Vyrdolyak himself is now headed to federal prison for a kickback scheme involving one of the governor's top appointees.
Thanks to Chuck Goudie
FRONTLINE/WORLD TELLS THE INSIDE STORY OF AN ANTI-MAFIA MOVEMENT IN ITALY
Near the start of this episode of the PBS international newsmagazine FRONTLINE/World, Vincenzo Conticello, a restaurant owner in Palermo, Sicily, describes his first run-in with the Mafia: “A man I had never seen before asked to meet with me and said: ‘I’m your tax collector. ... Pay me $800 a month, and you’ll have no more problems.’” Conticello continues: “I looked at him. I felt an intense fear. Still to this day, when I think about it, my heart drops. I lost my breath. The Mafia was right there in front of me.” The surprising tale of what happened next to Conticello would open a new chapter in the region’s long history of Mafia dominance and provide the dramatic spine of a story that would resonate through Italy. “I realized that it wasn't just my personal battle,” Conticello tells FRONTLINE/World. “It was the battle of an entire city.”
In Taking on the Mafia, airing Tuesday, Jan. 27, 2009, at 9:00 p.m. ET on PBS (check local listings), FRONTLINE/World producer and reporter Carola Mamberto tells the inside story of how the restaurant owner—backed by an upstart anti-Mafia movement of young people and an elite anti-Mafia law enforcement team—combined for a rare victory in the nation’s uphill battle against mob bosses who have kept the country in their grip for decades.
“The Mafia feeds itself as if it were Dracula, this vampire that bites into people and sucks the economy,” says Lirio Abbate, whose controversial recent exposé on the Mafia led to an attempt on his life. “Shop owners and businessmen are scared, and so they pay and don’t report it. Some are so terrified that they’ll deny it in court, even if they are caught on film.”
To catch mafiosi in the act and to persuade their extortion victims to cooperate, the police have undertaken an extensive surveillance effort. In the case of Conticello’s restaurant, the police cameras rolled as one mobster after another entered the restaurant to get him to pay the extortion which locals call “the pizzo.” “In Palermo, 80 percent of businesses pay the pizzo,” one of Sicily’s top anti-Mafia cops, Jacopo Mannucci, tells FRONTLINE/World. “Even market stands pay protection. They pay $80 to $150. For larger companies, the payments can be thousands of dollars, up to $15,000 per month.”
Paying the pizzo to the Mafia has been a pillar of Mafia power for decades, but after a series of high-profile Mafia murders in Palermo, an anti-Mafia spirit began to grow among the city’s next generation, among them two young people considering opening a pub who instead started a protest movement after they realized they’d be forced to give a larger part of their profits to the mob. “Why [did we decide] to focus on the pizzo rather than drugs, weapons or other shady deals?” Laura Nocilla and Raffaele Genova, the founders of the Goodbye Pizzo movement, tell FRONTLINE/World. “Because we immediately realized that it was the tool for the Mafia to create a culture that accepts their control of the territory. If you take that away, everything else the Mafia does will collapse.”
Ultimately in this story, members of the Goodbye Pizzo movement—young people, shop owners and even some members of the Palermo establishment—pack a Palermo courtroom as the restaurant owner Conticello faces his moment of truth and points a finger at one of the men who had tried to shake him down, leading to some rare Mafia prosecutions. “What I have made is a small opening, a small hole,” Conticello says. “We have to hammer every day so that it becomes bigger, and we can advance in this ongoing war.”
In Taking on the Mafia, airing Tuesday, Jan. 27, 2009, at 9:00 p.m. ET on PBS (check local listings), FRONTLINE/World producer and reporter Carola Mamberto tells the inside story of how the restaurant owner—backed by an upstart anti-Mafia movement of young people and an elite anti-Mafia law enforcement team—combined for a rare victory in the nation’s uphill battle against mob bosses who have kept the country in their grip for decades.
“The Mafia feeds itself as if it were Dracula, this vampire that bites into people and sucks the economy,” says Lirio Abbate, whose controversial recent exposé on the Mafia led to an attempt on his life. “Shop owners and businessmen are scared, and so they pay and don’t report it. Some are so terrified that they’ll deny it in court, even if they are caught on film.”
To catch mafiosi in the act and to persuade their extortion victims to cooperate, the police have undertaken an extensive surveillance effort. In the case of Conticello’s restaurant, the police cameras rolled as one mobster after another entered the restaurant to get him to pay the extortion which locals call “the pizzo.” “In Palermo, 80 percent of businesses pay the pizzo,” one of Sicily’s top anti-Mafia cops, Jacopo Mannucci, tells FRONTLINE/World. “Even market stands pay protection. They pay $80 to $150. For larger companies, the payments can be thousands of dollars, up to $15,000 per month.”
Paying the pizzo to the Mafia has been a pillar of Mafia power for decades, but after a series of high-profile Mafia murders in Palermo, an anti-Mafia spirit began to grow among the city’s next generation, among them two young people considering opening a pub who instead started a protest movement after they realized they’d be forced to give a larger part of their profits to the mob. “Why [did we decide] to focus on the pizzo rather than drugs, weapons or other shady deals?” Laura Nocilla and Raffaele Genova, the founders of the Goodbye Pizzo movement, tell FRONTLINE/World. “Because we immediately realized that it was the tool for the Mafia to create a culture that accepts their control of the territory. If you take that away, everything else the Mafia does will collapse.”
Ultimately in this story, members of the Goodbye Pizzo movement—young people, shop owners and even some members of the Palermo establishment—pack a Palermo courtroom as the restaurant owner Conticello faces his moment of truth and points a finger at one of the men who had tried to shake him down, leading to some rare Mafia prosecutions. “What I have made is a small opening, a small hole,” Conticello says. “We have to hammer every day so that it becomes bigger, and we can advance in this ongoing war.”
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