This SATURDAY, June 20, 2009, AMERICA’S MOST WANTED will be airing the following cases.
Atlanta, Georgia… VERNON COLEMAN… The U.S. Marshals and the DEA have teamed up to bring down the Black Mafia Family, a major drug trafficking organization. They were successful in arresting all but one of the suspects, and the only straggler is Vernon Marcus Coleman, known as Big Wu on the streets.
Harlem, New York… CARLOS THOMPSON… New York cops say rapper Carlos Thompson handed a .38-caliber revolver to a 13-year-old boy and ordered him to murder another teen. Now, more than a year later, Thompson is in custody.
Stone Mountain, Georgia… DERRICK YANCEY… Newly-released surveillance video shows Derrick Yancey, a former sheriff's deputy accused of killing his wife and another man, in his first hours on the run. Investigators say Yancey is seen buying a Greyhound bus ticket to California, but his whereabouts are now unknown.
Whitewater, Wisconsin… RICKY HOWARD… Cops in Whitewater, Wisc. say Ricky Howard is a perpetual danger to society. Throughout his life, Howard's been in and out of jail, but cops say in December of 1999, he reached a new low when he violently raped a 12-year-old girl. Nearly ten years later, Howard is still on the run and police need your help to find him.
Garland, Texas… CESAR OROZCO… Authorities are searching for Cesar Orozco, a man who they say shot and killed 26-year-old Joe Castillo last March. Police suspect that Orozco killed Castillo because he thought he was seeing his ex-wife.
Nationwide... JOHN PARIGIAN… After being convicted of wire fraud, cops say Boston con-man John Parigian rented a plane and vanished into thin air – literally. Now, police are piecing together his trail, and believe he could be hiding out in New York or Massachusetts.
Anchorage, Alaska… JOHN PEZZENTI KILLER… On December 3, 2007, detectives were called to a two-story shack in Anchorage, Alaska, where they found a body, soon identified as acclaimed wildlife photographer John Pezzenti, Jr. With no signs of forced entry or robbery, cops say John knew who pulled the trigger, and they hope that AMW viewers can help solve the murder.
Nationwide... PATRICIA PARDO… In 2000, cops say Patricia Pardo stole the identity of 17-year-old Joanna Saenz. Eight years later, Pardo was arrested but quickly disappeared after posting bond. Now, Joanna is determined to fight back and help police track down the woman they say changed her life forever. This Saturday, AMW will put Pardo on national TV in hopes of bringing her to justice.
Houston, Texas… TIMOTEO RIOS… In April of 2008, 39-year-old Tina Davila headed to a Cricket store in Houston, Texas to pay her cell phone bill. But before she got inside, cops say she was attacked in an attempted carjacking by Timoteo Rios. With her 4-month-old baby in the backseat, Tina fought back, but police say Rios stabbed Tina in the chest, killing her at the scene. Cops say Rios escaped in his own car, but that this was just the beginning of a crime spree that lasted all afternoon.
Washington, D.C…. TOP COPS 2009… Once a year, the bravest and most heroic police officers -- the nation’s TOP COPS -- are honored in a ceremony hosted by AMW Host John Walsh. This year’s TOP COPS AWARDS showcased some truly inspiring stories, with the night’s top honor going to a Georgia Police Officer who single handedly stopped an armed robbery and saved the life of a cashier who was taken hostage.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Michael Mann on His Production of "Public Enemies" Starring Johnny Depp as John Dillinger
Hollywood is full of filmmakers who are uncompromising perfectionists, but only Michael Mann could boast that he not only has a favorite room to screen his films -- the Zanuck theater on the Fox lot -- but also a favorite row in the theater where you should park your fanny.
Michaelmann "If you sit in row J at the Zanuck, you'll find yourself in the perfect mean, the center of the bell curve for every theater in America," he told me the other day, camped out in his Santa Monica offices, surrounded by memorabilia from decades of his work, which includes a host of wildly compelling films and TV shows, including "Crime Story," "Heat," "The Insider," "Ali" and "Collateral."
"If your film can play in row J, you're in the heart of the zone," he says. "I know some people that want to sit farther back, but that's the worst place to sit. If you're too far back, the surrounds are too large."
Even though we got together to talk about "Public Enemies,"
his new film that stars Johnny Depp as John Dillinger, our conversation ranged far afield, since Mann often sounds more like a Marxist history professor than a filmmaker, waxing just as eloquent about the broad historical forces that shaped Depression-era gangsters like Dillinger as how the notorious criminal managed to bust out of a high-security prison armed with a wooden pistol.
At 66, Mann still has the swagger and stamina of men half his age. Our interview was pushed back a couple of hours because the filmmaker had pulled an all-nighter, staying up until 9 a.m. overseeing digital transfer work on "Public Enemies," which has its first public showing June 23 at the Los Angeles Film Festival. (It opens nationwide July 1.) Even though he was going on scant hours of sleep, Mann looked fresh, as if staying up all night were a tonic.
"Actually it's exhilarating at this stage, when it all comes together," he explains in a voice that still had the echo of his upbringing in Chicago's working-class Humboldt Park neighborhood. "The film feels like it's containable, in your hands, almost like it was when it just an idea on three paragraphs on a piece of paper."
Mann is part of an elite Hollywood club of veteran directors -- notably Martin Scorsese, Clint Eastwood, Ridley Scott and David Fincher -- who are both held in high critical esteem and act as magnets for A-list movie star talent, allowing them a freedom to pursue the kind of dark, difficult material largely out of favor with today's franchise-obsessed movie studios. Mann has never enjoyed a mega hit -- of his nine features, only one, "Collateral," made more than $72 million domestically. His last film, "Miami Vice," was a box-office dud. But he has earned the right to make a wide range of absorbing films, largely thanks to the presence of such stars as Will Smith, Tom Cruise, Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Jaime Foxx and now Depp in the leading roles.
It's easy to see what attracts such star power. Mann has a great ear for dialogue, a brilliant eye for action and the beguiling charm of a guy who's comfortable hanging out with all sorts of ex-cops and hoods. His technical advisor on "Public Enemies" was a convicted armed robber who once, as Mann explains with a twinkle in his eye, "stole a diamond as big as a grapefruit."
But what happens when studio bosses try to control a filmmaker who is uncontrollable? Keep reading:
Being in the Michael Mann business isn't for the faint of heart. After butting heads with Mann, any number of studio heads have sworn to never work with him again, exhausted by what they view as his budget-busting intransigence. ("Public Enemies" cost roughly $100 million and came in on time, in part because the production had to be finished before last summer's presumptive SAG strike date.) But after a few years pass, the stance often softens, since the artistry of the film remains long after memories of the clashes with Mann fade. When Mann made "Ali," he battled with Sony Pictures chief Amy Pascal, who was especially infuriated by the director's insistence on retaining a couple of obscenities in the picture, which prevented the film from earning a PG-13 rating that would have helped it reach a far broader audience. But now all is forgiven. "No matter what I said at the time, I think Michael is one of our most gifted filmmakers -- we're always trying to develop new directing projects for him," says Pascal. "You put all the disagreements behind you because you remember the great work, not the pain of the moment." She laughs. "You forget about the pain of childbirth too. I mean, whatever you go through, you still want another baby. It's like that with Michael too."
It's not so hard to see parallels between Mann, who has the fierce independence of an earlier generation of Hollywood filmmakers, and Dillinger, who is portrayed in "Public Enemies" as something of an anachronism, a lone wolf being squeezed out of the bank-robbing trade by the growing corporatization of crime. A key element in Mann's conception of the film -- which he wrote with Ronan Bennett and Ann Biderman -- is that it wasn't just J. Edgar Hoover's FBI who was gunning for Dillinger, but the newly organized crime syndicates who saw freelance outlaws like Dillinger as threats to their nationwide business aspirations.
"Dillinger was actually obsolete, but he was so damn good at what he did that he managed to survive, despite all the horrible attrition around him," explains Mann, who makes a point in the film of showing that virtually all of Dillinger's cohorts were gunned down before he famously meets his end outside Chicago's Biograph Theater. "There are two big evolutionary forces at work. There's what Hoover is doing with the FBI, with information gathering and data management. And there's organized crime, being cash rich, moving into corporate capitalism, and they don't want these Depression outlaws around [inspiring the Feds to pass crime legislation] against moving money across interstate lines."
Mann had always seen the 1930s as fertile territory. Back in the 1980s, he wrote a screenplay about Alvin Karpis, a Chicago bank robber who often crossed paths with Dillinger (he appears in "Public Enemies," played by Giovanni Ribisi). Nothing came of it, but Mann got interested again when he read an excerpt from Bryan Burrough's book "Public Enemies" in Vanity Fair. The filmmaker teamed up with producer Kevin Misher to put the project together. The first draft of the script was written by Bennett, a novelist Mann thought would have an interesting take on Dillinger, since when Bennett was a young IRA sympathizer he was accused of being involved with a series of bank robberies and ended up serving time in prison.
The film paints Dillinger in somber, fatalistic tones. Even though he has a soulful relationship with a Chicago hat-check girl (played in the film by Marion Cotillard), Dillinger always has a dark cloud of doom hovering over his head. He knows he won't be around long enough to worry about tomorrow. But he's also a populist icon. When a farmer offers him a few dollars in the middle of a bank heist, Dillinger refuses to take the cash, saying, "We're not here for your money. We're here for the bank's money."
To Mann, it's easy to identify with Dillinger. "He was a charismatic outlaw hero who spoke to people in the depths of the Depression. He assaulted the institution that made their lives miserable -- the bank -- and he outsmarted the institution -- the government -- that couldn't fix the problems brought about by the Depression."
Mann uses the same word over and over to describe Dillinger -- brio. When Dillinger broke out of Indiana's supposedly impregnable Crown Point jail, "he didn't just take a car, he takes the sheriff's new car, a V-8 Ford, and then he wrote a letter to Henry Ford, telling him that whenever he stole a car, he wanted to steal a Ford."
Once Mann had a finished script, he went to Depp, having been a fan of his work, especially offbeat fare like "Libertine." "Johnny is not afraid to take chances," says Mann. "I thought this was a character he could relate to internally, to mine the deeper currents within himself, the way he would if he were ever to play a musician. I wanted to see Johnny go inside this guy, to do something emotionally open and expressive."
So how does a filmmaker know he's in sync with an actor when they're preparing a film? "The more you do it, the more you know it when you know," Mann says. "When Russell Crowe came in for 'The Insider,' I thought it was going nowhere -- and suddenly we were reading a speech and after two lines -- wham! -- he was Jeffrey Wigand. It was all him." Mann had a similar moment of takeoff with Depp a few weeks before shooting began. "As he was reading, I started hearing the voice I heard in my head when I was writing the words. It was great."
It wasn't always great on the set. According to people who were there, Depp, accustomed to the clockwork production schedule on Gore Verbinski's "Pirates of the Caribbean" films, had trouble adjusting to Mann's more idiosyncratic schedule, which often forced Depp to wait for long hours until Mann was ready to proceed. (I got a little taste of it myself, cooling my heels in Mann's outer office before the filmmaker came out to meet me, with his assistant explaining that I'd have to wait "until he finishes thinking.")
Mann says reports that Depp sometimes left the set in frustration are untrue. "That's nonsense," he says. "He may have kept me waiting, I have may kept him waiting. That's not a big deal. For me, what goes on in a film set is sacrosanct, so I have nothing to say about what went on."
Mann isn't especially enamored by the tag of uncompromising perfectionist either. "If someone says, 'Are you a perfectionist?' I'd say no," he says. "There are many scenes in this film that were great that aren't in it anymore because I don't believe in wasting time on a meaningless detail at the risk of blowing the richness that's down the block. I know what's important [in a film] and what's not."
For Mann, it's all about delivering the goods. not just to the studio but also the moviegoer. "When I set out to make a movie, part of the thrill is the level of commitment," he says. "I ain't playing, you bet. I don't leave things half-[done], saying, 'Well, that scene is good enough. We can move on.' That doesn't happen. The ambition -- and it's a sizable one -- is to make a movie that has a dramatic impact on people."
Thanks to Patrick Goldstein
Michaelmann "If you sit in row J at the Zanuck, you'll find yourself in the perfect mean, the center of the bell curve for every theater in America," he told me the other day, camped out in his Santa Monica offices, surrounded by memorabilia from decades of his work, which includes a host of wildly compelling films and TV shows, including "Crime Story," "Heat," "The Insider," "Ali" and "Collateral."
"If your film can play in row J, you're in the heart of the zone," he says. "I know some people that want to sit farther back, but that's the worst place to sit. If you're too far back, the surrounds are too large."
Even though we got together to talk about "Public Enemies,"
his new film that stars Johnny Depp as John Dillinger, our conversation ranged far afield, since Mann often sounds more like a Marxist history professor than a filmmaker, waxing just as eloquent about the broad historical forces that shaped Depression-era gangsters like Dillinger as how the notorious criminal managed to bust out of a high-security prison armed with a wooden pistol.At 66, Mann still has the swagger and stamina of men half his age. Our interview was pushed back a couple of hours because the filmmaker had pulled an all-nighter, staying up until 9 a.m. overseeing digital transfer work on "Public Enemies," which has its first public showing June 23 at the Los Angeles Film Festival. (It opens nationwide July 1.) Even though he was going on scant hours of sleep, Mann looked fresh, as if staying up all night were a tonic.
"Actually it's exhilarating at this stage, when it all comes together," he explains in a voice that still had the echo of his upbringing in Chicago's working-class Humboldt Park neighborhood. "The film feels like it's containable, in your hands, almost like it was when it just an idea on three paragraphs on a piece of paper."
Mann is part of an elite Hollywood club of veteran directors -- notably Martin Scorsese, Clint Eastwood, Ridley Scott and David Fincher -- who are both held in high critical esteem and act as magnets for A-list movie star talent, allowing them a freedom to pursue the kind of dark, difficult material largely out of favor with today's franchise-obsessed movie studios. Mann has never enjoyed a mega hit -- of his nine features, only one, "Collateral," made more than $72 million domestically. His last film, "Miami Vice," was a box-office dud. But he has earned the right to make a wide range of absorbing films, largely thanks to the presence of such stars as Will Smith, Tom Cruise, Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Jaime Foxx and now Depp in the leading roles.
It's easy to see what attracts such star power. Mann has a great ear for dialogue, a brilliant eye for action and the beguiling charm of a guy who's comfortable hanging out with all sorts of ex-cops and hoods. His technical advisor on "Public Enemies" was a convicted armed robber who once, as Mann explains with a twinkle in his eye, "stole a diamond as big as a grapefruit."
But what happens when studio bosses try to control a filmmaker who is uncontrollable? Keep reading:
Being in the Michael Mann business isn't for the faint of heart. After butting heads with Mann, any number of studio heads have sworn to never work with him again, exhausted by what they view as his budget-busting intransigence. ("Public Enemies" cost roughly $100 million and came in on time, in part because the production had to be finished before last summer's presumptive SAG strike date.) But after a few years pass, the stance often softens, since the artistry of the film remains long after memories of the clashes with Mann fade. When Mann made "Ali," he battled with Sony Pictures chief Amy Pascal, who was especially infuriated by the director's insistence on retaining a couple of obscenities in the picture, which prevented the film from earning a PG-13 rating that would have helped it reach a far broader audience. But now all is forgiven. "No matter what I said at the time, I think Michael is one of our most gifted filmmakers -- we're always trying to develop new directing projects for him," says Pascal. "You put all the disagreements behind you because you remember the great work, not the pain of the moment." She laughs. "You forget about the pain of childbirth too. I mean, whatever you go through, you still want another baby. It's like that with Michael too."
It's not so hard to see parallels between Mann, who has the fierce independence of an earlier generation of Hollywood filmmakers, and Dillinger, who is portrayed in "Public Enemies" as something of an anachronism, a lone wolf being squeezed out of the bank-robbing trade by the growing corporatization of crime. A key element in Mann's conception of the film -- which he wrote with Ronan Bennett and Ann Biderman -- is that it wasn't just J. Edgar Hoover's FBI who was gunning for Dillinger, but the newly organized crime syndicates who saw freelance outlaws like Dillinger as threats to their nationwide business aspirations.
"Dillinger was actually obsolete, but he was so damn good at what he did that he managed to survive, despite all the horrible attrition around him," explains Mann, who makes a point in the film of showing that virtually all of Dillinger's cohorts were gunned down before he famously meets his end outside Chicago's Biograph Theater. "There are two big evolutionary forces at work. There's what Hoover is doing with the FBI, with information gathering and data management. And there's organized crime, being cash rich, moving into corporate capitalism, and they don't want these Depression outlaws around [inspiring the Feds to pass crime legislation] against moving money across interstate lines."
Mann had always seen the 1930s as fertile territory. Back in the 1980s, he wrote a screenplay about Alvin Karpis, a Chicago bank robber who often crossed paths with Dillinger (he appears in "Public Enemies," played by Giovanni Ribisi). Nothing came of it, but Mann got interested again when he read an excerpt from Bryan Burrough's book "Public Enemies" in Vanity Fair. The filmmaker teamed up with producer Kevin Misher to put the project together. The first draft of the script was written by Bennett, a novelist Mann thought would have an interesting take on Dillinger, since when Bennett was a young IRA sympathizer he was accused of being involved with a series of bank robberies and ended up serving time in prison.
The film paints Dillinger in somber, fatalistic tones. Even though he has a soulful relationship with a Chicago hat-check girl (played in the film by Marion Cotillard), Dillinger always has a dark cloud of doom hovering over his head. He knows he won't be around long enough to worry about tomorrow. But he's also a populist icon. When a farmer offers him a few dollars in the middle of a bank heist, Dillinger refuses to take the cash, saying, "We're not here for your money. We're here for the bank's money."
To Mann, it's easy to identify with Dillinger. "He was a charismatic outlaw hero who spoke to people in the depths of the Depression. He assaulted the institution that made their lives miserable -- the bank -- and he outsmarted the institution -- the government -- that couldn't fix the problems brought about by the Depression."
Mann uses the same word over and over to describe Dillinger -- brio. When Dillinger broke out of Indiana's supposedly impregnable Crown Point jail, "he didn't just take a car, he takes the sheriff's new car, a V-8 Ford, and then he wrote a letter to Henry Ford, telling him that whenever he stole a car, he wanted to steal a Ford."
Once Mann had a finished script, he went to Depp, having been a fan of his work, especially offbeat fare like "Libertine." "Johnny is not afraid to take chances," says Mann. "I thought this was a character he could relate to internally, to mine the deeper currents within himself, the way he would if he were ever to play a musician. I wanted to see Johnny go inside this guy, to do something emotionally open and expressive."
So how does a filmmaker know he's in sync with an actor when they're preparing a film? "The more you do it, the more you know it when you know," Mann says. "When Russell Crowe came in for 'The Insider,' I thought it was going nowhere -- and suddenly we were reading a speech and after two lines -- wham! -- he was Jeffrey Wigand. It was all him." Mann had a similar moment of takeoff with Depp a few weeks before shooting began. "As he was reading, I started hearing the voice I heard in my head when I was writing the words. It was great."
It wasn't always great on the set. According to people who were there, Depp, accustomed to the clockwork production schedule on Gore Verbinski's "Pirates of the Caribbean" films, had trouble adjusting to Mann's more idiosyncratic schedule, which often forced Depp to wait for long hours until Mann was ready to proceed. (I got a little taste of it myself, cooling my heels in Mann's outer office before the filmmaker came out to meet me, with his assistant explaining that I'd have to wait "until he finishes thinking.")
Mann says reports that Depp sometimes left the set in frustration are untrue. "That's nonsense," he says. "He may have kept me waiting, I have may kept him waiting. That's not a big deal. For me, what goes on in a film set is sacrosanct, so I have nothing to say about what went on."
Mann isn't especially enamored by the tag of uncompromising perfectionist either. "If someone says, 'Are you a perfectionist?' I'd say no," he says. "There are many scenes in this film that were great that aren't in it anymore because I don't believe in wasting time on a meaningless detail at the risk of blowing the richness that's down the block. I know what's important [in a film] and what's not."
For Mann, it's all about delivering the goods. not just to the studio but also the moviegoer. "When I set out to make a movie, part of the thrill is the level of commitment," he says. "I ain't playing, you bet. I don't leave things half-[done], saying, 'Well, that scene is good enough. We can move on.' That doesn't happen. The ambition -- and it's a sizable one -- is to make a movie that has a dramatic impact on people."
Thanks to Patrick Goldstein
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Reputed Chicago Mobster, Michael "The Large Guy" Sarno Released on $1,000,000 Bond
Reputed Chicago Outfit figure Michael "the Large Guy" Sarno pleaded not guilty today to racketeering charges that allege he ran an illegal gambling operation and coordinated the bombing of a rival.
Sarno was indicted last month in connection with a mob-connected criminal ring that also allegedly ran jewelry heists and intimidated witnesses. He was charged in connection with the 2003 bombing of C&S Coin Operated Amusements in Berwyn.
U.S. Magistrate Judge Sidney Schenkier ordered Sarno released to home confinement on a $1 million bond secured by four properties owned by his family members.
Prosecutors have alleged the ring operated with the protection of two suburban police officers, including former Berwyn officer James Formato, who allegedly provided information about law enforcement activity.
Agents from the FBI and Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosive seized between 20 and 30 video poker machines in raids carried out in conjunction with the indictment last month. Sarno faces up to 25 years in prison if convicted.
Thanks to Jeff Coen
Sarno was indicted last month in connection with a mob-connected criminal ring that also allegedly ran jewelry heists and intimidated witnesses. He was charged in connection with the 2003 bombing of C&S Coin Operated Amusements in Berwyn.
U.S. Magistrate Judge Sidney Schenkier ordered Sarno released to home confinement on a $1 million bond secured by four properties owned by his family members.
Prosecutors have alleged the ring operated with the protection of two suburban police officers, including former Berwyn officer James Formato, who allegedly provided information about law enforcement activity.
Agents from the FBI and Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosive seized between 20 and 30 video poker machines in raids carried out in conjunction with the indictment last month. Sarno faces up to 25 years in prison if convicted.
Thanks to Jeff Coen
Monday, June 15, 2009
Photo of Robert De Niro Hanging Out on Movie Set with Real Mobsters
Robert De Niro is another "GoodFella" who has hung out with the Gambino crime family.
While making the 1999 film "Analyze This," about a neurotic gangster, De Niro consulted with the late Gambino soldier Anthony (Fat Andy) Ruggiano - and the Daily News has obtained a never-before-seen photo of the Oscar-winning actor with the big-time gangster in the actor's trailer.
The film may have been a comedy, but Ruggiano was no joke. Ruggiano, who died in March 1999, was inducted into the crime family when the boss was Albert Anastasia. He was involved in at least seven murders, including giving the approval to whack his son-in-law.
"He did a lot of work for the family," Ruggiano's turncoat son Anthony Jr. testified recently at the trial of a Gambino hit man. "Work" is mob jargon for gangland killings. "He killed somebody with a fellow named Joe," Anthony Ruggiano Jr. recalled. "He killed a florist in Brooklyn. He killed three people in a warehouse that was robbing crap games.
"He killed somebody with me . . . and they had this guy Irish Danny killed behind the Skyway Motel on Conduit Blvd."
De Niro, who is famous for scrupulously researching his roles, was introduced to Ruggiano by reputed Gambino associate Anthony Corozzo, a member of the Screen Actors Guild and an extra on "Analyze This," a knowledgeable source said.
Anthony Corozzo is the brother of high-ranking Gambinos Nicholas (Little Nick) Corozzo, a powerful capo, and reputed consigliere Joseph Corozzo. He also appeared in another film starring De Niro, "A Bronx Tale," and forgettable flicks "This Thing of Ours, "The Deli" and "Men Lie."
"Anthony is like a liaison with the acting community," the source said.
De Niro's rep, Stan Rosenfeld, said the movie was made a long time ago and the actor doesn't recall Ruggiano. "Bob seldom, if ever, discusses his research techniques," Rosenfeld said.
Attorney Joseph Corozzo Jr. denied his uncle brought Fat Andy to the set.
Jerry Capeci of the Web site Ganglandnews.com said it's no secret actors like to rub elbows with real tough guys, and the feeling is mutual. "Even Carlo Gambino, the epitome of the understated, low-key mob boss, couldn't resist the lure of posing in that now famous backstage picture with Frank Sinatra surrounded by a bunch of smiling wise guys," Capeci said.
During the filming of "GoodFellas," De Niro was interested in talking to the legendary gangster he was playing, but James (Jimmy the Gent) Burke was in jail and refused to meet with the actor, the source said.
De Niro is the latest alumnus from the film "GoodFellas" to have met with members of the Gambino family. Actor Frank Sivero posed for photos at Gambino hit man Charles Carneglia's junkyard, and actor Anthony Borgese was indicted last week for participating in an extortion with a Gambino soldier.
Thanks to John Marzulli.
While making the 1999 film "Analyze This," about a neurotic gangster, De Niro consulted with the late Gambino soldier Anthony (Fat Andy) Ruggiano - and the Daily News has obtained a never-before-seen photo of the Oscar-winning actor with the big-time gangster in the actor's trailer.
The film may have been a comedy, but Ruggiano was no joke. Ruggiano, who died in March 1999, was inducted into the crime family when the boss was Albert Anastasia. He was involved in at least seven murders, including giving the approval to whack his son-in-law.
"He did a lot of work for the family," Ruggiano's turncoat son Anthony Jr. testified recently at the trial of a Gambino hit man. "Work" is mob jargon for gangland killings. "He killed somebody with a fellow named Joe," Anthony Ruggiano Jr. recalled. "He killed a florist in Brooklyn. He killed three people in a warehouse that was robbing crap games.
"He killed somebody with me . . . and they had this guy Irish Danny killed behind the Skyway Motel on Conduit Blvd."
De Niro, who is famous for scrupulously researching his roles, was introduced to Ruggiano by reputed Gambino associate Anthony Corozzo, a member of the Screen Actors Guild and an extra on "Analyze This," a knowledgeable source said.
Anthony Corozzo is the brother of high-ranking Gambinos Nicholas (Little Nick) Corozzo, a powerful capo, and reputed consigliere Joseph Corozzo. He also appeared in another film starring De Niro, "A Bronx Tale," and forgettable flicks "This Thing of Ours, "The Deli" and "Men Lie."
"Anthony is like a liaison with the acting community," the source said.
De Niro's rep, Stan Rosenfeld, said the movie was made a long time ago and the actor doesn't recall Ruggiano. "Bob seldom, if ever, discusses his research techniques," Rosenfeld said.
Attorney Joseph Corozzo Jr. denied his uncle brought Fat Andy to the set.
Jerry Capeci of the Web site Ganglandnews.com said it's no secret actors like to rub elbows with real tough guys, and the feeling is mutual. "Even Carlo Gambino, the epitome of the understated, low-key mob boss, couldn't resist the lure of posing in that now famous backstage picture with Frank Sinatra surrounded by a bunch of smiling wise guys," Capeci said.
During the filming of "GoodFellas," De Niro was interested in talking to the legendary gangster he was playing, but James (Jimmy the Gent) Burke was in jail and refused to meet with the actor, the source said.
De Niro is the latest alumnus from the film "GoodFellas" to have met with members of the Gambino family. Actor Frank Sivero posed for photos at Gambino hit man Charles Carneglia's junkyard, and actor Anthony Borgese was indicted last week for participating in an extortion with a Gambino soldier.
Thanks to John Marzulli.
Ex-Governor of Illinois Accuses Democrats of Ties to The Chicago Outfit
The adjourned session of the General Assembly failed abysmally to come to grips with Illinois’ pervasive state of corruption. Leading the failure were two Chicagoans — Mike Madigan, speaker of the House and John Cullerton, president of the Senate. The Chicago bloc fell in line behind them, demonstrating once again the baleful grip that Chicago’s Democratic machine, now 85 years old, has on this state.
It’s time to state the obvious. The primary cause of endemic corruption in Illinois is the Chicago political machine.
The machine began with “Push Cart” Tony, Anton J. Cermak. He and his successor, Edward J. Kelly, welded the Democratic Party’s 50 ward committeemen and 3,000 precinct captains into a tight, powerful and well-disciplined political machine that on election day regularly delivered the votes needed to elect its candidates — the ultimate goal of the Chicago machine, then and now.
Demanding unswerving loyalty, the machine absorbed many thousands of new arrivals — first, the Irish, Italians, Jews, Poles and Germans, and then the blacks from the South. With few changes in its disciplined methodology, it has now endured for more than 80 years as the available patronage jobs have grown to exceed 40,000.
From the beginning, self-preservation and a lack of ethical standards have characterized the machine’s method of operations. And the machine MO has always included its cardinal credo — “look the other way.” If thy brother is lining his pockets, it’s none of thine’s business.
The credo of toleration and its accompanying lack of ethical standards was hardened when the machine encountered Al Capone’s criminal organization. Sometimes close, sometimes at arms’ length, the political organization with its “look the other way” credo has ever since tolerated what has been called variously the criminal organization, crime syndicate, the Mob, the Chicago Outfit.
The blindness to crime existed in the 11th Ward organization, home for all the Daleys. The precinct captains of that ward organization worked the same streets as the Outfit’s soldiers.
Yet, Daley constantly denied that organized crime existed in Chicago. Significantly, Richard M. Daley looked the other way as state’s attorney, Cook County’s chief law enforcement officer from 1980 to 1989. Ignored during those years were the criminal activities of the Outfit disclosed recently by the Family Secrets trial.
The machine’s political power has extended over the years far beyond Chicago. The machine has also controlled the state’s Democratic Party organization and the selection of candidates for both county and state office. In the state legislature, the machine has constantly controlled a large bloc.
With wheeling and dealing and masterful power brokering raised to an art form, the machine bloc has enabled Chicago machine politics to control both leaders and the flow of legislation in both houses. To get anything accomplished, downstate legislators must bow to the Chicago leadership.
In recent years, money has replaced patronage as the critical fuel for the machine’s operations. So-called “pay to play” has become endemic. Governmental rewards go to those making large contributions. In practical effect, it’s legalized bribery.
Often, the money flows through lawyers — a business desiring governmental results pays high fees to particular attorneys who, in turn, make campaign contributions to the official having the power to grant the favors.
Today, Mayor Richard M. Daley denies that he heads a political machine. He should read the felony indictments of more than 130 officials in his administration. They spell out an MO that is basically no different from that of old-time bosses Tony Cermak and Edward Kelly. And basically, it’s the same MO spelled out in the 75-page indictment of impeached Gov. Rod Blagojevich and the 18-count indictment of former secretary of state and Gov. George Ryan, one a Democrat and the other a Republican.
The columnist Mike Royko once wrote that the City of Chicago’s official motto, “Urbs in Horto” (city in a garden), should be changed to, “Ubi est Mea” (what’s in it for me). That has a strange similarity to Blagojevich’s infamous statement about the Senate seat vacated by President Barack Obama that he tried to auction off to the highest bidder: “I’ve got this thing and it’s ---- golden and I’m not going to give it away for ---- nothing.”
As the trial lawyers say, I rest my case. The record is clear that it is the Chicago political machine that has brought Illinois, the Land of Lincoln, to its present intolerable state of corruption.
Thanks to Dan Walker, Governor of Illinois from 1973-77.
It’s time to state the obvious. The primary cause of endemic corruption in Illinois is the Chicago political machine.
The machine began with “Push Cart” Tony, Anton J. Cermak. He and his successor, Edward J. Kelly, welded the Democratic Party’s 50 ward committeemen and 3,000 precinct captains into a tight, powerful and well-disciplined political machine that on election day regularly delivered the votes needed to elect its candidates — the ultimate goal of the Chicago machine, then and now.
Demanding unswerving loyalty, the machine absorbed many thousands of new arrivals — first, the Irish, Italians, Jews, Poles and Germans, and then the blacks from the South. With few changes in its disciplined methodology, it has now endured for more than 80 years as the available patronage jobs have grown to exceed 40,000.
From the beginning, self-preservation and a lack of ethical standards have characterized the machine’s method of operations. And the machine MO has always included its cardinal credo — “look the other way.” If thy brother is lining his pockets, it’s none of thine’s business.
The credo of toleration and its accompanying lack of ethical standards was hardened when the machine encountered Al Capone’s criminal organization. Sometimes close, sometimes at arms’ length, the political organization with its “look the other way” credo has ever since tolerated what has been called variously the criminal organization, crime syndicate, the Mob, the Chicago Outfit.
The blindness to crime existed in the 11th Ward organization, home for all the Daleys. The precinct captains of that ward organization worked the same streets as the Outfit’s soldiers.
Yet, Daley constantly denied that organized crime existed in Chicago. Significantly, Richard M. Daley looked the other way as state’s attorney, Cook County’s chief law enforcement officer from 1980 to 1989. Ignored during those years were the criminal activities of the Outfit disclosed recently by the Family Secrets trial.
The machine’s political power has extended over the years far beyond Chicago. The machine has also controlled the state’s Democratic Party organization and the selection of candidates for both county and state office. In the state legislature, the machine has constantly controlled a large bloc.
With wheeling and dealing and masterful power brokering raised to an art form, the machine bloc has enabled Chicago machine politics to control both leaders and the flow of legislation in both houses. To get anything accomplished, downstate legislators must bow to the Chicago leadership.
In recent years, money has replaced patronage as the critical fuel for the machine’s operations. So-called “pay to play” has become endemic. Governmental rewards go to those making large contributions. In practical effect, it’s legalized bribery.
Often, the money flows through lawyers — a business desiring governmental results pays high fees to particular attorneys who, in turn, make campaign contributions to the official having the power to grant the favors.
Today, Mayor Richard M. Daley denies that he heads a political machine. He should read the felony indictments of more than 130 officials in his administration. They spell out an MO that is basically no different from that of old-time bosses Tony Cermak and Edward Kelly. And basically, it’s the same MO spelled out in the 75-page indictment of impeached Gov. Rod Blagojevich and the 18-count indictment of former secretary of state and Gov. George Ryan, one a Democrat and the other a Republican.
The columnist Mike Royko once wrote that the City of Chicago’s official motto, “Urbs in Horto” (city in a garden), should be changed to, “Ubi est Mea” (what’s in it for me). That has a strange similarity to Blagojevich’s infamous statement about the Senate seat vacated by President Barack Obama that he tried to auction off to the highest bidder: “I’ve got this thing and it’s ---- golden and I’m not going to give it away for ---- nothing.”
As the trial lawyers say, I rest my case. The record is clear that it is the Chicago political machine that has brought Illinois, the Land of Lincoln, to its present intolerable state of corruption.
Thanks to Dan Walker, Governor of Illinois from 1973-77.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
