Friends of ours: Colombo Crime Family, Bonanno Crime Family, Gregory Scarpa Sr., Joseph "Joe Brewster" DeDomenico, Nicholas Grancio
Friends of mine: R. Lindley DeVecchio, Larry Lampesi
A grand jury in Brooklyn has accused a retired F.B.I. agent of helping a Mafia killer and bureau informant murder or help murder at least three people, a law enforcement official with knowledge of the indictment confirmed yesterday.
The murder indictment in Supreme Court names R. Lindley DeVecchio, a career investigator and onetime head of the bureau's Colombo and Bonanno families squads. He led a government surveillance team during a bloody mob civil war in the 1980's. That war left at least 10 men dead and 14 wounded.
Mr. DeVecchio, 65, reached yesterday by telephone at his home in Sarasota, Fla., denied any wrongdoing and referred all further questions to his lawyer, Douglas Grover, who said the district attorney's case against his client was "complete nonsense."
"I'm going to bang the table" in court on Monday "and get a copy of the indictment," he said. Mr. Grover, a former federal prosecutor with the Organized Crime Task Force, added: "It's common for an indictment to be filed and sealed and kept secret until prosecutors make a decision as to how they want to deal with the arraignment. But it's uncommon to leak it to the press."
Starting in 1982, Mr. DeVecchio began grooming Gregory Scarpa Sr., a captain and an assassin for the Colombo crime family, as a mole for the F.B.I.
According to the still-sealed indictment, the law enforcement official said, Mr. DeVecchio, while an F.B.I. agent, provided information to Mr. Scarpa, who in 1984 killed Mary Bari, who had dated a mobster and become a bureau informant.
The indictment also charges that Mr. DeVecchio provided information that helped Mr. Scarpa assist in the 1987 killing of Joseph DeDomenico, a mobster also known as Joe Brewster, as well as in the 1992 death of Larry Lampesi, a mob associate.
Mr. DeVecchio had also been investigated in the death of a fourth person, Nicholas Grancio, a Colombo family captain. It is not clear if that case is addressed in the indictment.
In 1992, a hit team organized by Mr. Scarpa pulled alongside Mr. Grancio's car and killed him with a shotgun blast. Investigators wondered whether Mr. DeVecchio had withdrawn F.B.I. agents from the scene, making the murder possible.
In 1993, Mr. Scarpa pleaded guilty to murder and racketeering charges. He died of AIDS a year later in a prison hospital at age 66 after contracting the virus that causes it from a blood transfusion.
The indictment of Mr. DeVecchio was reported yesterday in The New York Daily News and The New York Post. Details of his possible indictment were also reported this month by Jerry Capeci, a longtime reporter on organized crime, on his Web site, GangLandNews.com.
Mr. DeVecchio's lawyer, Mr. Grover, said that Mr. Scarpa was interviewed in prison by the F.B.I. and was asked specifically whether Mr. DeVecchio was his source. "Scarpa said no," Mr. Grover said.
Mr. Grover described Mr. DeVecchio as a friend who had become a client and who had testified or worked in many organized-crime cases while Mr. Grover was a federal prosecutor.
Contrary to some press depictions of his client as a hermit, Mr. Grover said, "Lynn is not a recluse. He lives in a house in Florida. He has a significant other. He is retired from the F.B.I. but still works for a living, and he travels to New York on occasion. And I have seen him socially."
Thanks to Anthony Ramirez
Monday, March 27, 2006
Sunday, March 26, 2006
Intelligence Report: Operation Family Secrets
Friends of ours: Joey "The Clown" Lombardo, John "No Nose" DiFronzo
It has been nearly a year since the upper echelon of the Chicago outfit was indicted in the biggest mob murder case in US history, Operation Family Secrets. In our intelligence report, ABC7 investigative reporter Chuck Goudie has new details about one of the mobsters charged and one who isn't, at least not yet.
The one who is charged, Joey "The Clown" Lombardo, may be the reason that top hoodlum John Difronzo hasn't been charged as mobwatchers and many defense lawyers figured. You may remember that Joe Lombardo was a federal fugitive since being indicted last spring.
Early this year, just as federal prosecutors were looking to add Difronzo to the indictment, Lombardo was finally caught, temporarily interrupting the government's plan to expand the indictment.
Eighteen murders have been pinned on the who's who of gangland Chicago that was indicted in Operation Family Secrets. When Joe Lombardo was finally arrested in January, after the FBI couldn't find him for nine months, he was the highest ranking reputed member of the Chicago mob to be charged in the case.
Notable by his absence from the indictment was John Difronzo, the same age as Lombardo, 77.
If law enforcement considers Lombardo to be chairman of the board, then Difronzo is the outfit's chief operating officer.
Difronzo claims to be a used car salesman, but federal authorities believe he had a supervisory role in many of the crimes that have been charged against 14 outfit defendants in operation family secrets. Investigators say that Difronzo is a key link His rap sheet lists 26 arrests. Most recently he was convicted in a mob scheme to take over an Indian casino in Southern California and did federal time.
Difronzo is nicknamed "no nose," but not because police once shot him in the proboscis as mob lore has it. Actually, half of Difronzo's nose was sliced off as he jumped through a window during a fur store robbery.
Police caught him at the end of the blood trail and gave his nose back to him. The trail connecting Difronzo to Operation Family Secrets has been more complicated, according to investigators, in a case that has been 30 years in the making.
While researching this intelligence report, the I-Team found a painting of Lombardo for sale on the internet. The North Carolina artist, Gerhardt Isringhaus, tells us his girlfriend has a "clown phobia" and that's why he painted it. Isringhaus says he painted bullet holes in the background, figuring Lombardo has dodged gunfire most of his life. The artist grew up in St. Louis and says his next door neighbor was a seamstress who made wedding gowns for Chicago mob families.
Lombardo is housed at the federal lockup in the Loop, where Operation Family Secrets defendants have been abuzz at talk that Difronzo may be cooperating with the government, an unlikely scenario that defense lawyers deny.
Difronzo's attorney Carl Walsh says that he knows nothing of a pending indictment against his client. The US attorney's office declined comment.
Thanks to Chuck Goudie
It has been nearly a year since the upper echelon of the Chicago outfit was indicted in the biggest mob murder case in US history, Operation Family Secrets. In our intelligence report, ABC7 investigative reporter Chuck Goudie has new details about one of the mobsters charged and one who isn't, at least not yet.
The one who is charged, Joey "The Clown" Lombardo, may be the reason that top hoodlum John Difronzo hasn't been charged as mobwatchers and many defense lawyers figured. You may remember that Joe Lombardo was a federal fugitive since being indicted last spring.
Early this year, just as federal prosecutors were looking to add Difronzo to the indictment, Lombardo was finally caught, temporarily interrupting the government's plan to expand the indictment.
Eighteen murders have been pinned on the who's who of gangland Chicago that was indicted in Operation Family Secrets. When Joe Lombardo was finally arrested in January, after the FBI couldn't find him for nine months, he was the highest ranking reputed member of the Chicago mob to be charged in the case.
Notable by his absence from the indictment was John Difronzo, the same age as Lombardo, 77.
If law enforcement considers Lombardo to be chairman of the board, then Difronzo is the outfit's chief operating officer.
Difronzo claims to be a used car salesman, but federal authorities believe he had a supervisory role in many of the crimes that have been charged against 14 outfit defendants in operation family secrets. Investigators say that Difronzo is a key link His rap sheet lists 26 arrests. Most recently he was convicted in a mob scheme to take over an Indian casino in Southern California and did federal time.
Difronzo is nicknamed "no nose," but not because police once shot him in the proboscis as mob lore has it. Actually, half of Difronzo's nose was sliced off as he jumped through a window during a fur store robbery.
Police caught him at the end of the blood trail and gave his nose back to him. The trail connecting Difronzo to Operation Family Secrets has been more complicated, according to investigators, in a case that has been 30 years in the making.
While researching this intelligence report, the I-Team found a painting of Lombardo for sale on the internet. The North Carolina artist, Gerhardt Isringhaus, tells us his girlfriend has a "clown phobia" and that's why he painted it. Isringhaus says he painted bullet holes in the background, figuring Lombardo has dodged gunfire most of his life. The artist grew up in St. Louis and says his next door neighbor was a seamstress who made wedding gowns for Chicago mob families.
Lombardo is housed at the federal lockup in the Loop, where Operation Family Secrets defendants have been abuzz at talk that Difronzo may be cooperating with the government, an unlikely scenario that defense lawyers deny.
Difronzo's attorney Carl Walsh says that he knows nothing of a pending indictment against his client. The US attorney's office declined comment.
Thanks to Chuck Goudie
Friday, March 24, 2006
Did the Mob Elect Kennedy?
Friends of mine: Slick Hanner
While a UIC researcher earlier this week presented a case that he said debunked the Mob's impact on the Kennedy's election, is that really the case?
William "Slick" Hanner has a book coming out this fall in which he will refute those who claim the mob did not have a hand in the 1960 Presidential election. An excerpt:
Slick's book, "Thief! The Gutsy, True Story of an Ex-Con Artist
," is a Barricade Books release due out in fall of 2006.
While a UIC researcher earlier this week presented a case that he said debunked the Mob's impact on the Kennedy's election, is that really the case?
William "Slick" Hanner has a book coming out this fall in which he will refute those who claim the mob did not have a hand in the 1960 Presidential election. An excerpt:
In 1960 I was working in a Mafia run strip joint in Chicago's first ward. Although I was a felon and not allowed to vote, my boss Big Joe Smith (not to be confused with big Joe Arnold) told me to register to vote on election day. Me and the strip joint employees where transported to the polls to vote for Kennedy. "Don't make a mistake," Joe said.
Can you imagine if they did this for Nixon who would have won???
Slick's book, "Thief! The Gutsy, True Story of an Ex-Con Artist
," is a Barricade Books release due out in fall of 2006.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Mob Didn't Turn Out Vote for Kennedy: UIC Professor
Friends of ours: Sam Giancana
No, the Mafia did not win the 1960 presidential election for John F. Kennedy, according to a study by a University of Illinois at Chicago professor.
After Kennedy's razor-thin victory over Richard Nixon in Illinois, which cemented Kennedy's lead in the electoral college, Nixon backers blamed Mayor Richard J. Daley's notorious precinct captains for election-night hijinks. But years later, another argument emerged: Kennedy or his father made a deal with the mob to throw the election in Chicago -- and thus Illinois -- to Kennedy.
Author Seymour Hersh made the argument in a 1997 book, The Dark Side of Camelot. Frank Sinatra's daughter, Tina, and Judith Campbell Exner, reputed former mistress of the late president and of late Chicago mob boss Sam Giancana, also made versions of that argument.
To test the theory that the mob turned out the vote in Chicago's 1960 general election, John Binder, a finance professor at UIC, analyzed vote totals for five city wards where the mob reputedly had clout, as well as in Cicero and Chicago Heights.
Those areas performed no differently than the non-mob wards and suburbs, Binder found. "There's really no evidence to support that story," Binder said. "Some of the people telling these stories are nuts."
The Democratic votes in the 1st, 24th, 25th, 28th and 29th wards, as well as in Cicero and Chicago Heights, did not jump any more from Adlai Stevenson in 1956 to Kennedy in 1960 than other comparable wards and townships, he said.
Exner had also said she was sent to deliver money from the Kennedy family to Giancana to help fund union efforts on Kennedy's behalf in the West Virginia primary election in which Kennedy surprised Hubert Humphrey. Binder questions that as well.
"How in God's name is Sam Giancana going to get anything done in West Virginia?" he asked. "They don't have any influence there."
Could the mob's influence in the 1960 Chicago general election have been citywide through the unions as opposed to just the mob-controlled wards? Binder calls that unlikely because Kennedy and his brother had antagonized union leaders during the McClellan hearings.
"There is evidence that unions voted the other way -- they couldn't stand the Kennedys," Binder said.
Thanks to Abdon M. Pallasch
No, the Mafia did not win the 1960 presidential election for John F. Kennedy, according to a study by a University of Illinois at Chicago professor.
After Kennedy's razor-thin victory over Richard Nixon in Illinois, which cemented Kennedy's lead in the electoral college, Nixon backers blamed Mayor Richard J. Daley's notorious precinct captains for election-night hijinks. But years later, another argument emerged: Kennedy or his father made a deal with the mob to throw the election in Chicago -- and thus Illinois -- to Kennedy.
Author Seymour Hersh made the argument in a 1997 book, The Dark Side of Camelot. Frank Sinatra's daughter, Tina, and Judith Campbell Exner, reputed former mistress of the late president and of late Chicago mob boss Sam Giancana, also made versions of that argument.
To test the theory that the mob turned out the vote in Chicago's 1960 general election, John Binder, a finance professor at UIC, analyzed vote totals for five city wards where the mob reputedly had clout, as well as in Cicero and Chicago Heights.
Those areas performed no differently than the non-mob wards and suburbs, Binder found. "There's really no evidence to support that story," Binder said. "Some of the people telling these stories are nuts."
The Democratic votes in the 1st, 24th, 25th, 28th and 29th wards, as well as in Cicero and Chicago Heights, did not jump any more from Adlai Stevenson in 1956 to Kennedy in 1960 than other comparable wards and townships, he said.
Exner had also said she was sent to deliver money from the Kennedy family to Giancana to help fund union efforts on Kennedy's behalf in the West Virginia primary election in which Kennedy surprised Hubert Humphrey. Binder questions that as well.
"How in God's name is Sam Giancana going to get anything done in West Virginia?" he asked. "They don't have any influence there."
Could the mob's influence in the 1960 Chicago general election have been citywide through the unions as opposed to just the mob-controlled wards? Binder calls that unlikely because Kennedy and his brother had antagonized union leaders during the McClellan hearings.
"There is evidence that unions voted the other way -- they couldn't stand the Kennedys," Binder said.
Thanks to Abdon M. Pallasch
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
UIC Researcher Debunks Mob Impact on 1960 Presidential Election
An analysis of voting totals from the 1960 presidential election debunks claims that the Chicago Mob played a significant role in tilting the election to John F. Kennedy, according to a University of Illinois at Chicago organized crime historian and researcher.
"There is little, if any, convincing evidence to support these extreme claims about the 1960 presidential election," John Binder, author of "The Chicago Outfit
," writes in a summarized version of the copyrighted article "Organized Crime and the 1960 Presidential Election."
Binder, UIC associate professor of finance, statistically examined election voting by four groups of Chicago wards and suburbs where organized crime would have been most able to deliver votes for Kennedy if it so desired, including:
- the 1st, 24th, 25th, 28th and 29th wards
- the above five wards and the 45th ward
- the five "Outfit" wards and two suburbs (Chicago Heights and Cicero), and
- all six Chicago wards and the two suburbs
The percentage of voters casting a Democratic ballot in 1960 was compared not only to the percentage voting Democratic in the previous (1956) or the next (1964) presidential election, but also to how the other wards in Chicago voted in 1960.
The findings, detailed in an upcoming issue of the journal Public Choice, show that in only one of eight cases is there any evidence of unusually strong Democratic voting that might have been due to organized crime.
"It certainly is not consistent with an all-out effort to elect John Kennedy, because in that case, increased Democratic voting should be evident in more than just 12.5 percent of the tests," Binder said. "The results, as further tests show, are more likely due to a concerted effort to defeat the incumbent Republican state's attorney, which due to straight-ticket voting in some cases, threw a few more votes to John Kennedy," he said.
"Therefore, much of what has been written about the Outfit, the 1960 presidential election and other events involving the Kennedy family appears to be historical myth -- which along with other fascinating myths, should not be taken seriously," Binder said.
Thanks to University of Illinois at Chicago
"There is little, if any, convincing evidence to support these extreme claims about the 1960 presidential election," John Binder, author of "The Chicago Outfit
," writes in a summarized version of the copyrighted article "Organized Crime and the 1960 Presidential Election."Binder, UIC associate professor of finance, statistically examined election voting by four groups of Chicago wards and suburbs where organized crime would have been most able to deliver votes for Kennedy if it so desired, including:
- the 1st, 24th, 25th, 28th and 29th wards
- the above five wards and the 45th ward
- the five "Outfit" wards and two suburbs (Chicago Heights and Cicero), and
- all six Chicago wards and the two suburbs
The percentage of voters casting a Democratic ballot in 1960 was compared not only to the percentage voting Democratic in the previous (1956) or the next (1964) presidential election, but also to how the other wards in Chicago voted in 1960.
The findings, detailed in an upcoming issue of the journal Public Choice, show that in only one of eight cases is there any evidence of unusually strong Democratic voting that might have been due to organized crime.
"It certainly is not consistent with an all-out effort to elect John Kennedy, because in that case, increased Democratic voting should be evident in more than just 12.5 percent of the tests," Binder said. "The results, as further tests show, are more likely due to a concerted effort to defeat the incumbent Republican state's attorney, which due to straight-ticket voting in some cases, threw a few more votes to John Kennedy," he said.
"Therefore, much of what has been written about the Outfit, the 1960 presidential election and other events involving the Kennedy family appears to be historical myth -- which along with other fascinating myths, should not be taken seriously," Binder said.
Thanks to University of Illinois at Chicago
Mama Gets Her shot at 'Mob cops'
Friends of ours: Anthony "Gaspipe" Casso, Lucchese Crime Family
Friends of mine: Louis Eppolito, Stephen Caracappa
Twenty years after Jimmy Hydell disappeared on a rainy Saturday, his mother will get her chance at revenge against the men she believes delivered him to his death - the so-called Mafia cops. Betty Hydell is set to take the stand this week to testify that Louis Eppolito and Stephen Caracappa were looking for her son the day he disappeared.
Eppolito, 57, and Caracappa, 64, have been charged with kidnapping Jimmy Hydell and handing him over to gangster Anthony (Gaspipe) Casso. The two ex-NYPD detectives are on trial in Brooklyn Federal Court on charges they killed and committed other crimes while secretly working for the mob.
Casso allegedly tortured Hydell, a wanna-be wiseguy, for hours, then fatally shot him after getting him to reveal the name of cohorts who had attempted to kill the Luchese capo, authorities contend.
Testimony last week by Burton Kaplan, a key government witness, has infuriated Betty Hydell further, her daughter told the Daily News.
Kaplan told jurors Jimmy Hydell knew he was going to die and begged Casso to "throw him in the street" so his mom could collect insurance. Kaplan said Casso promised he would, but Hydell's body was never found. "My mother was very upset about this," said Liz Hydell. "She's ready to come to court."
Documents obtained by the Daily News show Betty Hydell first contacted authorities about the two cops she believed were involved in her son's death seven years before the duo was arrested.
Betty Hydell, according to those papers, is expected to describe how, soon after Jimmy left the house on Oct. 18, 1986, her other son, Frank, returned to say he'd been followed by two men in a light blue sedan. He was driving Jimmy's car.
Hydell got in her car and found the sedan parked near her house. She says she pulled up alongside and asked the men who they were. The driver flashed a badge and she remembers saying, "You should let people know what you're doing."
Some time later, an NYPD detective showed up with Jimmy's clothes and a key ring. She didn't recognize the keys, but something on the ring was his. She kept the clothes for years.
At the time, she did not know the identity of the two cops and told no one of her suspicions. She feared retaliation against her Frank Hydell, who had his own problems with the law.
In April 1998, Frank was gunned down outside a Staten Island strip club. Betty Hydell claims she then told law enforcement officials her belief that two cops had kidnapped her son.
By then, she said she could identify them - claiming some years earlier that she saw Eppolito plugging his 1992 book, "Mafia Cop
," on a talk show and recognized him as the driver of the car she'd seen the day Jimmy went away.
Thanks to Greg B. Smith
Friends of mine: Louis Eppolito, Stephen Caracappa
Twenty years after Jimmy Hydell disappeared on a rainy Saturday, his mother will get her chance at revenge against the men she believes delivered him to his death - the so-called Mafia cops. Betty Hydell is set to take the stand this week to testify that Louis Eppolito and Stephen Caracappa were looking for her son the day he disappeared.
Eppolito, 57, and Caracappa, 64, have been charged with kidnapping Jimmy Hydell and handing him over to gangster Anthony (Gaspipe) Casso. The two ex-NYPD detectives are on trial in Brooklyn Federal Court on charges they killed and committed other crimes while secretly working for the mob.
Casso allegedly tortured Hydell, a wanna-be wiseguy, for hours, then fatally shot him after getting him to reveal the name of cohorts who had attempted to kill the Luchese capo, authorities contend.
Testimony last week by Burton Kaplan, a key government witness, has infuriated Betty Hydell further, her daughter told the Daily News.
Kaplan told jurors Jimmy Hydell knew he was going to die and begged Casso to "throw him in the street" so his mom could collect insurance. Kaplan said Casso promised he would, but Hydell's body was never found. "My mother was very upset about this," said Liz Hydell. "She's ready to come to court."
Documents obtained by the Daily News show Betty Hydell first contacted authorities about the two cops she believed were involved in her son's death seven years before the duo was arrested.
Betty Hydell, according to those papers, is expected to describe how, soon after Jimmy left the house on Oct. 18, 1986, her other son, Frank, returned to say he'd been followed by two men in a light blue sedan. He was driving Jimmy's car.
Hydell got in her car and found the sedan parked near her house. She says she pulled up alongside and asked the men who they were. The driver flashed a badge and she remembers saying, "You should let people know what you're doing."
Some time later, an NYPD detective showed up with Jimmy's clothes and a key ring. She didn't recognize the keys, but something on the ring was his. She kept the clothes for years.
At the time, she did not know the identity of the two cops and told no one of her suspicions. She feared retaliation against her Frank Hydell, who had his own problems with the law.
In April 1998, Frank was gunned down outside a Staten Island strip club. Betty Hydell claims she then told law enforcement officials her belief that two cops had kidnapped her son.
By then, she said she could identify them - claiming some years earlier that she saw Eppolito plugging his 1992 book, "Mafia Cop
," on a talk show and recognized him as the driver of the car she'd seen the day Jimmy went away.Thanks to Greg B. Smith
Monday, March 20, 2006
'Sopranos' Tour Showcases Hit's Sites
As the tour bus curves out of the Lincoln Tunnel into New Jersey, Marc Baron prepares his guests for what they're about to see: what Tony Soprano sees during the opening credits of "The Sopranos."
"Get your cameras ready," he tells the group of 51 people as they pass the glorious Manhattan skyline. "Welcome to New Jersey."
One of the biggest stars in "The Sopranos" -- which returns to HBO this Sunday after a nearly two-year hiatus -- is New Jersey itself.
A New York company has capitalized on the show's popularity, offering a four-hour "Sopranos"-themed tour of northern New Jersey. For $40 a head, fans visit the real home of the Bada Bing (a strip club called Satin Dolls) on Route 17 in Lodi and the fake storefront of Satriale's, where Tony and his crew often talk shop, in Kearny.
Film crews are regularly spotted around New Jersey, where fictional mob boss Tony Soprano and his family live and work. The show, which began in 1999, filmed scenes in downtown Newark and Clifton last month.
The company called On Location Tours, which also runs bus tours of "Sex and the City" sites in Manhattan, has taken about 20,000 fans around Jersey since the trips to the Garden State began about five years ago, said company owner Georgette Blau. "This is the new literary landmark tour," she said.
A spokeswoman for HBO declined to comment on the tours, which are not affiliated with the cable network. No matter to "Sopranos" fans, who are shuttled to about 40 different locations.
Some sites are clearly recognizable: the Pizzaland shack and the 25-foot-tall statue of a man holding a roll of carpet during the show's opening credits.
Other less-important "real" sites from the show are quickly pointed out as the bus rolls through the towns of Harrison and Kearny: the auto body shop run by Sal "Big Pussy" Bonpensiero, the newspaper box where Christopher Moltisanti steals papers with his name in it, or the high school Anthony Junior vandalizes.
June Gregory, visiting from Philadelphia, stood in front of the diner under the Pulaski Skyway, where in one episode of the show, Christopher was shot.
She decided against taking a photo, but other stops were worthy of pictures by some of the tour participants, who came from far (England, Ireland, Wales, Scotland and Australia) and near (Brooklyn and Long Island).
Gareth Edwards, visiting from Wales with his wife, said the tour was a highlight of their five-day trip to New York City. "I'm a big fan of 'The Sopranos.' We've got all the DVDs," he said.
They ranked the tour as important as tours of other New York landmarks they visited, including the Empire State Building, Rockefeller Center and ground zero. "It's better than a museum," added Edwards, 34.
Cameras clicked at Satriale's, which of course wasn't open, but props were visible inside. Baron said HBO holds a lease on the small building. As he peeked inside, Jim Washer said the show enjoys a cult following in London, where he lives.
Baron, an actor, talked about the show and shared biographies of the actors. He also gave prizes for answering "Sopranos" trivia questions. Many people on the tour knew the answers immediately.
One question: What are three kinds of animals killed on the Sopranos? The answer: Adriana La Cerva's dog, a deer in the famous "Pine Barrens" episode, and Tony's race horse.
As the bus snaked through downtown Newark, Baron pointed out Washington Park, where a group of American Indians protested Christopher Columbus in an episode from the fourth season, and the former insurance building now owned by Rutgers University that fronted as a court building for the show. But perhaps the highlight of the trip was the last stop: a visit to the strip club that serves as home base for the organized crime operation run by Tony and his "capos."
Inside, the purple lights are the same, but the room seems smaller. Dancers wore tops -- unlike in the show -- as they preened around two poles. "I was surprised they had clothes on," said Stacey Thomson of Fort Lauderdale. Participants were taken to a back area where they could buy hats, T-shirts, shot glasses and other trinkets bearing "The Sopranos" and Bada Bing logo.
Baron also pointed out how several buildings near the strip club have been used in the show, including a party store where Bonpensiero meets an FBI agent.
The tour was "something different" for London residents Michael and Victoria Nicholls, both 60, during their first trip to New York. Even though he couldn't answer any of the trivia questions on the bus, Nicholls said he enjoyed the tour. But the big fans said they enjoyed seeing the New Jersey spots where Tony, Paulie, Silvio and their favorite characters hang out.
Thomson and her husband said they are already preparing to have friends over for dinner Sunday to watch the show when it resumes. She'll be making ziti with marinara sauce and Italian sausage. "We'll be taking the phone off the hook," she said. "We won't be answering the door."
"Get your cameras ready," he tells the group of 51 people as they pass the glorious Manhattan skyline. "Welcome to New Jersey."
One of the biggest stars in "The Sopranos" -- which returns to HBO this Sunday after a nearly two-year hiatus -- is New Jersey itself.
A New York company has capitalized on the show's popularity, offering a four-hour "Sopranos"-themed tour of northern New Jersey. For $40 a head, fans visit the real home of the Bada Bing (a strip club called Satin Dolls) on Route 17 in Lodi and the fake storefront of Satriale's, where Tony and his crew often talk shop, in Kearny.
Film crews are regularly spotted around New Jersey, where fictional mob boss Tony Soprano and his family live and work. The show, which began in 1999, filmed scenes in downtown Newark and Clifton last month.
The company called On Location Tours, which also runs bus tours of "Sex and the City" sites in Manhattan, has taken about 20,000 fans around Jersey since the trips to the Garden State began about five years ago, said company owner Georgette Blau. "This is the new literary landmark tour," she said.
A spokeswoman for HBO declined to comment on the tours, which are not affiliated with the cable network. No matter to "Sopranos" fans, who are shuttled to about 40 different locations.
Some sites are clearly recognizable: the Pizzaland shack and the 25-foot-tall statue of a man holding a roll of carpet during the show's opening credits.
Other less-important "real" sites from the show are quickly pointed out as the bus rolls through the towns of Harrison and Kearny: the auto body shop run by Sal "Big Pussy" Bonpensiero, the newspaper box where Christopher Moltisanti steals papers with his name in it, or the high school Anthony Junior vandalizes.
June Gregory, visiting from Philadelphia, stood in front of the diner under the Pulaski Skyway, where in one episode of the show, Christopher was shot.
She decided against taking a photo, but other stops were worthy of pictures by some of the tour participants, who came from far (England, Ireland, Wales, Scotland and Australia) and near (Brooklyn and Long Island).
Gareth Edwards, visiting from Wales with his wife, said the tour was a highlight of their five-day trip to New York City. "I'm a big fan of 'The Sopranos.' We've got all the DVDs," he said.
They ranked the tour as important as tours of other New York landmarks they visited, including the Empire State Building, Rockefeller Center and ground zero. "It's better than a museum," added Edwards, 34.
Cameras clicked at Satriale's, which of course wasn't open, but props were visible inside. Baron said HBO holds a lease on the small building. As he peeked inside, Jim Washer said the show enjoys a cult following in London, where he lives.
Baron, an actor, talked about the show and shared biographies of the actors. He also gave prizes for answering "Sopranos" trivia questions. Many people on the tour knew the answers immediately.
One question: What are three kinds of animals killed on the Sopranos? The answer: Adriana La Cerva's dog, a deer in the famous "Pine Barrens" episode, and Tony's race horse.
As the bus snaked through downtown Newark, Baron pointed out Washington Park, where a group of American Indians protested Christopher Columbus in an episode from the fourth season, and the former insurance building now owned by Rutgers University that fronted as a court building for the show. But perhaps the highlight of the trip was the last stop: a visit to the strip club that serves as home base for the organized crime operation run by Tony and his "capos."
Inside, the purple lights are the same, but the room seems smaller. Dancers wore tops -- unlike in the show -- as they preened around two poles. "I was surprised they had clothes on," said Stacey Thomson of Fort Lauderdale. Participants were taken to a back area where they could buy hats, T-shirts, shot glasses and other trinkets bearing "The Sopranos" and Bada Bing logo.
Baron also pointed out how several buildings near the strip club have been used in the show, including a party store where Bonpensiero meets an FBI agent.
The tour was "something different" for London residents Michael and Victoria Nicholls, both 60, during their first trip to New York. Even though he couldn't answer any of the trivia questions on the bus, Nicholls said he enjoyed the tour. But the big fans said they enjoyed seeing the New Jersey spots where Tony, Paulie, Silvio and their favorite characters hang out.
Thomson and her husband said they are already preparing to have friends over for dinner Sunday to watch the show when it resumes. She'll be making ziti with marinara sauce and Italian sausage. "We'll be taking the phone off the hook," she said. "We won't be answering the door."
Drug Dealer Testifies That He Met Accused 'Mafia Cops' in Cemetery
Friends of ours: Lucchese Crime Family, Anthony "Gaspipe" Casso
Friends of mine: Louis Eppolito, Stephen Caracappa
Defendants joked about being stiffed on payments due in murders, witness says.
Nothing was sacred to the two accused "Mafia cops," not even a Staten Island cemetery, a convicted drug dealer told jurors yesterday in Brooklyn federal court.
Testifying for a second day, Burton Kaplan said that, as the envoy of Luchese crime family underboss Anthony (Gaspipe) Casso, he met NYPD detectives Louis Eppolito and Stephen Caracappa, formerly of Great Kills, in St. Mary's Cemetery, Elm Park.
Gallows humor was the order of the day, he said, as the cops laughed about being stiffed on payments due them for delivering up a Grasmere man to his death and murdering a Brooklyn jeweler. The pair, allegedly on a $4,000-a-month mob retainer, derided Casso for his reputed cheapness, particularly in connection with a mistaken-identity rubout, Kaplan noted.
"[Casso] got the address and number from a guy who worked at the gas company," Kaplan said of the Christmas Day 1986 hit -- not carried out by Eppolito and Caracappa -- on an innocent Brooklyn man.
"It was the wrong Nicky Guido who was killed. Frankie [Santora] and Louie [Eppolito] said the same thing: 'Gas should have paid the money [$4,000 to the detectives] and he would've got the right guy.'"
In arranging his meetings with the now ex-detectives, Kaplan recalled that he would contact Caracappa on his beeper "and put the number 259 behind it so he would know it was me."
Sometimes they met in the parking lot of a church near Caracappa's mother's house in South Beach, Kaplan said.
When Kaplan needed Eppolito, he said, he would call the robust detective's Long Island home. They'd meet at various Long Island locales, and sometimes Eppolito would drive to Kaplan's clothing warehouse on Port Richmond Avenue, the businessman testified.
Kaplan also dealt contraband out of Port Richmond, where he was busted in 1996 for trafficking in huge quantities of marijuana.
Kaplan said it was he who proposed that the two cops be put "on the books" in 1987, providing information on wiretaps, bugs, imminent arrests and names of "hot" police informants. Other jobs were extra.
Kaplan testified that when a scheme went awry, he asked for and received a Casso-sanctioned murder contract on an offending jeweler.
Kaplan said Caracappa, Eppolito and the latter's mobster cousin, Frank Santora, were paid $25,000 to kill "Jeweler No. 2" -- Kaplan couldn't recall the name of Israel Greenwald, who was shot dead in a Brooklyn parking garage after Caracappa and Eppolito allegedly pulled him over in their unmarked police car under the guise of investigating a hit-and-run.
Kaplan told jurors that he gave Santora $30,000 -- including a $5,000 bonus -- meant to be split three ways. But Santora pocketed the five grand, Kaplan said.
He said the cops and Santora were paid $35,000 to kidnap mob associate Jimmy Hydell, who was a marked man after he failed to kill Casso in a hit ordered by the Gambino crime family.
Kaplan said the pair found the Grasmere man in a laundermat in Brooklyn, threw him in the trunk and drove to the parking lot of the Toys "R" Us at Kings Plaza, where Casso and Kaplan were waiting.
Kaplan said he saw the two cops hovering near the entrance to the parking lot "as backup" before Casso told them to leave so he could murder Hydell.
Like the hit on the jeweler, Casso threw in an extra $5,000, which Santora also pocketed, Kaplan testified.
It wasn't until the three met in St. Mary's Cemetery that they realized Santora had done them dirty. "We were laughing about it," Kaplan recalled. "Louie said, 'That's typical of Frankie. Frankie put the rest in his pocket.'"
Thanks to Jeff Harrell
Friends of mine: Louis Eppolito, Stephen Caracappa
Defendants joked about being stiffed on payments due in murders, witness says.
Nothing was sacred to the two accused "Mafia cops," not even a Staten Island cemetery, a convicted drug dealer told jurors yesterday in Brooklyn federal court.
Testifying for a second day, Burton Kaplan said that, as the envoy of Luchese crime family underboss Anthony (Gaspipe) Casso, he met NYPD detectives Louis Eppolito and Stephen Caracappa, formerly of Great Kills, in St. Mary's Cemetery, Elm Park.
Gallows humor was the order of the day, he said, as the cops laughed about being stiffed on payments due them for delivering up a Grasmere man to his death and murdering a Brooklyn jeweler. The pair, allegedly on a $4,000-a-month mob retainer, derided Casso for his reputed cheapness, particularly in connection with a mistaken-identity rubout, Kaplan noted.
"[Casso] got the address and number from a guy who worked at the gas company," Kaplan said of the Christmas Day 1986 hit -- not carried out by Eppolito and Caracappa -- on an innocent Brooklyn man.
"It was the wrong Nicky Guido who was killed. Frankie [Santora] and Louie [Eppolito] said the same thing: 'Gas should have paid the money [$4,000 to the detectives] and he would've got the right guy.'"
In arranging his meetings with the now ex-detectives, Kaplan recalled that he would contact Caracappa on his beeper "and put the number 259 behind it so he would know it was me."
Sometimes they met in the parking lot of a church near Caracappa's mother's house in South Beach, Kaplan said.
When Kaplan needed Eppolito, he said, he would call the robust detective's Long Island home. They'd meet at various Long Island locales, and sometimes Eppolito would drive to Kaplan's clothing warehouse on Port Richmond Avenue, the businessman testified.
Kaplan also dealt contraband out of Port Richmond, where he was busted in 1996 for trafficking in huge quantities of marijuana.
Kaplan said it was he who proposed that the two cops be put "on the books" in 1987, providing information on wiretaps, bugs, imminent arrests and names of "hot" police informants. Other jobs were extra.
Kaplan testified that when a scheme went awry, he asked for and received a Casso-sanctioned murder contract on an offending jeweler.
Kaplan said Caracappa, Eppolito and the latter's mobster cousin, Frank Santora, were paid $25,000 to kill "Jeweler No. 2" -- Kaplan couldn't recall the name of Israel Greenwald, who was shot dead in a Brooklyn parking garage after Caracappa and Eppolito allegedly pulled him over in their unmarked police car under the guise of investigating a hit-and-run.
Kaplan told jurors that he gave Santora $30,000 -- including a $5,000 bonus -- meant to be split three ways. But Santora pocketed the five grand, Kaplan said.
He said the cops and Santora were paid $35,000 to kidnap mob associate Jimmy Hydell, who was a marked man after he failed to kill Casso in a hit ordered by the Gambino crime family.
Kaplan said the pair found the Grasmere man in a laundermat in Brooklyn, threw him in the trunk and drove to the parking lot of the Toys "R" Us at Kings Plaza, where Casso and Kaplan were waiting.
Kaplan said he saw the two cops hovering near the entrance to the parking lot "as backup" before Casso told them to leave so he could murder Hydell.
Like the hit on the jeweler, Casso threw in an extra $5,000, which Santora also pocketed, Kaplan testified.
It wasn't until the three met in St. Mary's Cemetery that they realized Santora had done them dirty. "We were laughing about it," Kaplan recalled. "Louie said, 'That's typical of Frankie. Frankie put the rest in his pocket.'"
Thanks to Jeff Harrell
Former Aryan Brotherhood Member Says Gotti Sought Hit
Friends of ours: John Gotti
A former member of the Aryan Brotherhood prison gang testified Thursday that alleged gang kingpin Barry "The Baron" Mills once ordered a killing at the request of John Gotti after another inmate jumped the mob boss in a prison yard.
Glen West, a member of the white supremacist gang from 1981 to 2003, said Gotti later told him he had offered $100,000 to the group if they would kill the man named Walter Johnson.
Another gang member sent a message to Mills, who was in a different prison, requesting permission to carry out the hit, West said. "He'd sent it to Barry, and Barry sent word back that we were to get Johnson killed at all costs," West said. Prosecutors have said the killing was never carried out.
Mills is among four members of the Aryan Brotherhood on trial on federal racketeering charges in the case alleging a web of conspiracies and killings in the gang's efforts to sell drugs and conduct other criminal activities in prisons across the nation.
It's the first of several trials comprising one of the largest death penalty cases in U.S. history. Prosecutors said Mills had a hand in all but one of the crimes in the indictment that includes 32 murders and attempted murders.
Two of the men currently on trial -- Mills and T.D. "The Hulk" Bingham -- could face the death penalty. All have pleaded not guilty.
During cross-examination, attorney H. Dean Steward, who represents Mills, asked if West was testifying to avoid a life sentence and pointed out that he didn't come forward with his information until 2003, when he was trying to strike a deal with prosecutors. "You were arrested at the same time everyone else was in this," Steward said. "You know count nine (of the indictment) carries a potential sentence of life in prison, is that right?"
West answered "yes" but did not elaborate.
West, 52, was charged with one count of conspiracy to commit murder in the current case, but he said that count will be dismissed in exchange for his testimony and a guilty plea in a separate attempted murder case from 1980.
Under earlier questioning, West said he had lied at another trial in the early 1990s to support an Aryan Brotherhood member. Later, he said he didn't testify at all in the case.
West also testified that he and Mills had been housed in the same prison block in Marion, Ill. During that time, Mills talked about at least five other murders that he said he ordered, according to West.
In one case, West said, Mills told him he was upset about a killing that got messy when the first strategy -- using a drug overdose -- didn't work.
Gang member Arva Lee "Baby" Ray was killed on July 9, 1989 because he threw a sugar packet and spit at another defendant, Edgar "The Snail" Hevle, and because he was abusing drugs and having a homosexual relationship, West said.
Mills "said they first tried to give him a hot shot, but that didn't work, so they had to strangle him and what they were using to strangle him with broke," West testified. "He said he was surprised at how hard Baby Ray fought it."
West, who was charged with one count of conspiracy to kill Ray, is now in the witness protection program.
Mills, 57, is already serving two life terms for a 1979 murder. In the current trial, he faces a possible death sentence for allegedly orchestrating the 1997 killings of two black inmates in Pennsylvania.
Rae Jones, 58, his stepsister, attended court proceedings. She said outside the courtroom that her parents had taken him in for a number of years when he was a teen and dating her older sister.
Mills worked at the family restaurant and later helped Jones raise her own sons. "He's a good man and has a loving heart," she said. "Barry was just one of the guys."
Bingham, 58, is currently serving time on robbery and drug charges. Also on trial are Hevle, 54, and Christopher Overton Gibson, 46. If convicted, both could face life in prison.
Authorities arrested 40 alleged Aryan Brotherhood members in 2002 after a six-year investigation that aimed to dismantle the gang's leadership under a federal racketeering law originally aimed at organized crime. Nineteen defendants struck plea bargains and one has died.
If convicted, 16 of the remaining defendants could face the death penalty.
A former member of the Aryan Brotherhood prison gang testified Thursday that alleged gang kingpin Barry "The Baron" Mills once ordered a killing at the request of John Gotti after another inmate jumped the mob boss in a prison yard.
Glen West, a member of the white supremacist gang from 1981 to 2003, said Gotti later told him he had offered $100,000 to the group if they would kill the man named Walter Johnson.
Another gang member sent a message to Mills, who was in a different prison, requesting permission to carry out the hit, West said. "He'd sent it to Barry, and Barry sent word back that we were to get Johnson killed at all costs," West said. Prosecutors have said the killing was never carried out.
Mills is among four members of the Aryan Brotherhood on trial on federal racketeering charges in the case alleging a web of conspiracies and killings in the gang's efforts to sell drugs and conduct other criminal activities in prisons across the nation.
It's the first of several trials comprising one of the largest death penalty cases in U.S. history. Prosecutors said Mills had a hand in all but one of the crimes in the indictment that includes 32 murders and attempted murders.
Two of the men currently on trial -- Mills and T.D. "The Hulk" Bingham -- could face the death penalty. All have pleaded not guilty.
During cross-examination, attorney H. Dean Steward, who represents Mills, asked if West was testifying to avoid a life sentence and pointed out that he didn't come forward with his information until 2003, when he was trying to strike a deal with prosecutors. "You were arrested at the same time everyone else was in this," Steward said. "You know count nine (of the indictment) carries a potential sentence of life in prison, is that right?"
West answered "yes" but did not elaborate.
West, 52, was charged with one count of conspiracy to commit murder in the current case, but he said that count will be dismissed in exchange for his testimony and a guilty plea in a separate attempted murder case from 1980.
Under earlier questioning, West said he had lied at another trial in the early 1990s to support an Aryan Brotherhood member. Later, he said he didn't testify at all in the case.
West also testified that he and Mills had been housed in the same prison block in Marion, Ill. During that time, Mills talked about at least five other murders that he said he ordered, according to West.
In one case, West said, Mills told him he was upset about a killing that got messy when the first strategy -- using a drug overdose -- didn't work.
Gang member Arva Lee "Baby" Ray was killed on July 9, 1989 because he threw a sugar packet and spit at another defendant, Edgar "The Snail" Hevle, and because he was abusing drugs and having a homosexual relationship, West said.
Mills "said they first tried to give him a hot shot, but that didn't work, so they had to strangle him and what they were using to strangle him with broke," West testified. "He said he was surprised at how hard Baby Ray fought it."
West, who was charged with one count of conspiracy to kill Ray, is now in the witness protection program.
Mills, 57, is already serving two life terms for a 1979 murder. In the current trial, he faces a possible death sentence for allegedly orchestrating the 1997 killings of two black inmates in Pennsylvania.
Rae Jones, 58, his stepsister, attended court proceedings. She said outside the courtroom that her parents had taken him in for a number of years when he was a teen and dating her older sister.
Mills worked at the family restaurant and later helped Jones raise her own sons. "He's a good man and has a loving heart," she said. "Barry was just one of the guys."
Bingham, 58, is currently serving time on robbery and drug charges. Also on trial are Hevle, 54, and Christopher Overton Gibson, 46. If convicted, both could face life in prison.
Authorities arrested 40 alleged Aryan Brotherhood members in 2002 after a six-year investigation that aimed to dismantle the gang's leadership under a federal racketeering law originally aimed at organized crime. Nineteen defendants struck plea bargains and one has died.
If convicted, 16 of the remaining defendants could face the death penalty.
Detectives Were Hired for Contract Killing, Witness Says
Friends of mine: Louis J. Eppolito, Stephen Caracappa
Fleshing out his tale of gangland murder and corruption, an aging marijuana dealer told jurors at the trial of Louis J. Eppolito and Stephen Caracappa today that in 1986, the two New York detectives murdered a crooked jeweler in a parking garage and then, years later, laughed about the killing at a secret meeting in a Staten Island cemetery.
It was the second day of testimony by the dealer, Burton Kaplan, in the trial of the two detectives, who are accused of taking part in at least eight murders for Brooklyn's Luchese crime family.
Mr. Kaplan, who is serving a 27-year prison sentence, spun a mesmerizing yarn today about the shooting of Israel Greenwald, a jeweler who had made the grave mistake of crossing him in a scheme to selling stolen Treasury bills.
The marijuana dealer, 72 and ailing, spoke in gravelly, measured tones, saying that he had given the murder contract to Mr. Eppolito's cousin Frank Santora Jr. and that the cousin had then recruited the detective and his partner to stop Mr. Greenwald on the highway, tell him he was wanted in a hit-and-run accident and then assassinate him in cold blood.
"The guy was driving his car," Mr. Kaplan said Mr. Santora had informed him once the contract had been filled. "They put on the flashing lights and pulled him over and told him he was wanted in a hit-and-run and they wanted him to be in a lineup.
"They took him, according to Frank, to an automobile repair place, a collision place, that was a friend of theirs."
It was there, prosecutors say, that the three men bound Mr. Greenwald's hands, shoved a plastic bag on his head, secured it with his own scarf, then shot him twice in the head
Thanks to Alan Feuer
Fleshing out his tale of gangland murder and corruption, an aging marijuana dealer told jurors at the trial of Louis J. Eppolito and Stephen Caracappa today that in 1986, the two New York detectives murdered a crooked jeweler in a parking garage and then, years later, laughed about the killing at a secret meeting in a Staten Island cemetery.
It was the second day of testimony by the dealer, Burton Kaplan, in the trial of the two detectives, who are accused of taking part in at least eight murders for Brooklyn's Luchese crime family.
Mr. Kaplan, who is serving a 27-year prison sentence, spun a mesmerizing yarn today about the shooting of Israel Greenwald, a jeweler who had made the grave mistake of crossing him in a scheme to selling stolen Treasury bills.
The marijuana dealer, 72 and ailing, spoke in gravelly, measured tones, saying that he had given the murder contract to Mr. Eppolito's cousin Frank Santora Jr. and that the cousin had then recruited the detective and his partner to stop Mr. Greenwald on the highway, tell him he was wanted in a hit-and-run accident and then assassinate him in cold blood.
"The guy was driving his car," Mr. Kaplan said Mr. Santora had informed him once the contract had been filled. "They put on the flashing lights and pulled him over and told him he was wanted in a hit-and-run and they wanted him to be in a lineup.
"They took him, according to Frank, to an automobile repair place, a collision place, that was a friend of theirs."
It was there, prosecutors say, that the three men bound Mr. Greenwald's hands, shoved a plastic bag on his head, secured it with his own scarf, then shot him twice in the head
Thanks to Alan Feuer
Friday, March 17, 2006
Documentary may tie Mafia to JFK assassination
Last November we told you here about a book titled Ultimate Sacrifice: John and Robert Kennedy, the Plan for a Coup in Cuba, and the Murder of JFK, which purported to offer new details about the death of President John F. Kennedy
. It's too complicated to go into all the revelations in this massive work by Lamar Waldron, but let it suffice to say that the San Francisco Chronicle recently ran a rave review written by Ronald Goldfarb. He was the Mafia prosecutor under Attorney General Bobby Kennedy, and this is the first time anyone closely associated with either brother has offered praise for a JFK assassination book.
Now we can tell you that NBC has completed an hourlong documentary focusing on the information in Ultimate Sacrifice, and this top-secret project will air soon on the Discovery Channel. It is to be titled Conspiracy Files: JFK and will include material withheld from the Warren Commission and from congressional investigations as well. Such material has never been seen on TV before.
Some of the protagonists are Mafia kingpin Johnny Rosselli and other godfathers telling how they tried to kill the president first in Chicago, then in Tampa, Fla., and later in Dallas, where they ultimately succeeded.
This documentary will offer the only TV interview in more than 40 years with Abraham Bolden, the first black Secret Service agent assigned to the White House. Framed by Rosselli's gang, he was arrested on the day he went to appear before the Warren Commission. He has fought for a very long time to clear his name.
Discovery will offer us a few startling realities about how the Secret Service destroyed crucial files covering the Tampa and Chicago attempts, and how there are still "well over 1 million CIA records" about the assassination that remain secret to this day.
Thanks to Liz Smith
. It's too complicated to go into all the revelations in this massive work by Lamar Waldron, but let it suffice to say that the San Francisco Chronicle recently ran a rave review written by Ronald Goldfarb. He was the Mafia prosecutor under Attorney General Bobby Kennedy, and this is the first time anyone closely associated with either brother has offered praise for a JFK assassination book.Now we can tell you that NBC has completed an hourlong documentary focusing on the information in Ultimate Sacrifice, and this top-secret project will air soon on the Discovery Channel. It is to be titled Conspiracy Files: JFK and will include material withheld from the Warren Commission and from congressional investigations as well. Such material has never been seen on TV before.
Some of the protagonists are Mafia kingpin Johnny Rosselli and other godfathers telling how they tried to kill the president first in Chicago, then in Tampa, Fla., and later in Dallas, where they ultimately succeeded.
This documentary will offer the only TV interview in more than 40 years with Abraham Bolden, the first black Secret Service agent assigned to the White House. Framed by Rosselli's gang, he was arrested on the day he went to appear before the Warren Commission. He has fought for a very long time to clear his name.
Discovery will offer us a few startling realities about how the Secret Service destroyed crucial files covering the Tampa and Chicago attempts, and how there are still "well over 1 million CIA records" about the assassination that remain secret to this day.
Thanks to Liz Smith
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Junior Gotti: They're breaking me
Friends of ours: Junior Gotti
John "Junior" Gotti, facing another retrial on racketeering charges this summer, is struggling financially to fight the charges, his lawyers say.
A second jury deadlocked last week on charges alleging the 42-year-old son of the late mob boss arranged the brutal beating of Guardian Angels founder Curtis Sliwa.
U.S. District Judge Shira Scheindlin set a July 5 date for another retrial after Gotti lawyer Charles Carnesi said Monday that his client needed time to borrow money to pay his legal team. Prosecutors, however, argued that Gotti wants to sell property paid for with crime proceeds, and the judge set a schedule for both sides to argue the fates of several properties before trial.
Sliwa attended the brief court proceeding several hours after announcing on his radio show that he had calmed down since saying last week that his WABC-AM co-host, Ron Kuby, was no longer his friend. Kuby, who represented a Gotti co-defendant in the 1990s, had been called to testify that Gotti told him in 1998 he wanted out of organized crime. After the mistrial, Sliwa said he was so angry at Kuby he wasn't sure he could do the show anymore.
The two were more cordial on the air Monday. "There's not going to be a train wreck," Kuby said. Sliwa, later in the show, said: "Things are getting a little better. In fact, Ron is going to get me a hot cup of tea."
Gotti, free on bail with electronic monitoring, insists he did not order the attack on Sliwa.
John "Junior" Gotti, facing another retrial on racketeering charges this summer, is struggling financially to fight the charges, his lawyers say.
A second jury deadlocked last week on charges alleging the 42-year-old son of the late mob boss arranged the brutal beating of Guardian Angels founder Curtis Sliwa.
U.S. District Judge Shira Scheindlin set a July 5 date for another retrial after Gotti lawyer Charles Carnesi said Monday that his client needed time to borrow money to pay his legal team. Prosecutors, however, argued that Gotti wants to sell property paid for with crime proceeds, and the judge set a schedule for both sides to argue the fates of several properties before trial.
Sliwa attended the brief court proceeding several hours after announcing on his radio show that he had calmed down since saying last week that his WABC-AM co-host, Ron Kuby, was no longer his friend. Kuby, who represented a Gotti co-defendant in the 1990s, had been called to testify that Gotti told him in 1998 he wanted out of organized crime. After the mistrial, Sliwa said he was so angry at Kuby he wasn't sure he could do the show anymore.
The two were more cordial on the air Monday. "There's not going to be a train wreck," Kuby said. Sliwa, later in the show, said: "Things are getting a little better. In fact, Ron is going to get me a hot cup of tea."
Gotti, free on bail with electronic monitoring, insists he did not order the attack on Sliwa.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Police Accused of Mafia Ties Head to Trial
Friends of ours: John Gotti, Anthony "Gaspipe" Casso, Lucchese Crime Family
Friends of mine: Louis Eppolito, Stephen Caracappa
It's a crime story that begs for a best seller: A pair of oft-decorated NYPD detectives are accused of leading double lives, joining the mob's payroll. They allegedly go on a crime spree, leave a trail of dead bodies, and retire to a life as Las Vegas high rollers. But who could write such a bizarre tale?
There's plenty of talent right at the defense table. Ex-detective turned defendant Louis Eppolito wrote an autobiography titled "Mafia Cop" and even appeared in a mob movie. His attorney, Bruce Cutler, wrote "Closing Argument," covering a career that includes defending mob boss John Gotti. Cutler's co-counsel, Edward Hayes, has a memoir titled "Mouthpiece" that just hit stores, and he was a model for a character in a Tom Wolfe novel.
All this media know-how will assemble in court Monday when the so-called "Mafia Cops" - Eppolito and former partner Stephen Caracappa - arrive for opening statements in their racketeering and murder trial.
Expect a few plot twists. "I think there will be some surprises," Hayes predicted. "And I certainly have a few."
According to prosecutors, the two ex-detectives engaged in a cornucopia of criminal activity between 1979 and last year. Their indictment lists eight murders, allegedly at the bidding of Luchese family underboss Anthony "Gaspipe" Casso.
Authorities said Casso paid $75,000 for one of the hits, regularly paid the pair $4,000 a month, and referred to them as his "crystal ball."
In one case, the detectives allegedly provided Casso with information to locate a mobster suspected in a murder plot against Casso. The tip, however, led to another man with the same name who died in a hail of gunfire on Christmas Day 1986.
There are charges of racketeering, kidnapping, murder, obstruction of justice, and money laundering, and after the pair retired to Nevada they were distributing methamphetamine, according to the indictment. The list could have been longer; in January, prosecutors opted to drop two additional murder counts.
Eppolito, 57, and Caracappa, 64, are both insistent about their innocence. Caracappa went on "60 Minutes" in January to express his indignation.
"Totally ridiculous," he said of the charges. "It's ludicrous. Anybody that knows me knows I love the police department."
Caracappa spent 23 years with the NYPD, working his way up to detective first grade and helping to establish the department's nerve center for Mafia murder investigations before retiring in 1992.
Eppolito actually grew up in a mob family: His father, grandfather and an uncle were all members of the Gambino family. The contrast between his police work and his family life was detailed in his autobiography, "Mafia Cop: The Story of An Honest Cop Whose Family Was the Mob."
He joined the department in 1969, and also made detective first-grade. Before his 1990 retirement, Eppolito was known among fellow cops as a tough guy with plenty of street smarts. The partners settled in Las Vegas to enjoy their golden years. They were arrested on March 9, 2005, at a Las Vegas restaurant, and released on $5 million bail each.
Their trial promises to be one of the year's great legal spectacles.
The bombastic Cutler is best known for his work with Gotti. In one memorable opening statement, he dramatically spiked the indictment against Gotti in a courtroom trash can.
"Garbage!" he thundered.
Hayes, a former prosecutor, brings his impeccable attire and a glittering client list that includes Robert De Niro and Sean "Diddy" Combs. He was the model for take-no-prisoners defense attorney Tommy Killian in Tom Wolfe's "The Bonfire of the Vanities." Hayes said he's willing to let somebody else write about this case: "I already wrote a book."
If someone else takes up the challenge, there's always the chance of a movie - and Eppolito could play himself. He had a bit part in the Martin Scorsese mob classic "GoodFellas."
Thanks to Larry McShane
Friends of mine: Louis Eppolito, Stephen Caracappa
It's a crime story that begs for a best seller: A pair of oft-decorated NYPD detectives are accused of leading double lives, joining the mob's payroll. They allegedly go on a crime spree, leave a trail of dead bodies, and retire to a life as Las Vegas high rollers. But who could write such a bizarre tale?
There's plenty of talent right at the defense table. Ex-detective turned defendant Louis Eppolito wrote an autobiography titled "Mafia Cop" and even appeared in a mob movie. His attorney, Bruce Cutler, wrote "Closing Argument," covering a career that includes defending mob boss John Gotti. Cutler's co-counsel, Edward Hayes, has a memoir titled "Mouthpiece" that just hit stores, and he was a model for a character in a Tom Wolfe novel.
All this media know-how will assemble in court Monday when the so-called "Mafia Cops" - Eppolito and former partner Stephen Caracappa - arrive for opening statements in their racketeering and murder trial.
Expect a few plot twists. "I think there will be some surprises," Hayes predicted. "And I certainly have a few."
According to prosecutors, the two ex-detectives engaged in a cornucopia of criminal activity between 1979 and last year. Their indictment lists eight murders, allegedly at the bidding of Luchese family underboss Anthony "Gaspipe" Casso.
Authorities said Casso paid $75,000 for one of the hits, regularly paid the pair $4,000 a month, and referred to them as his "crystal ball."
In one case, the detectives allegedly provided Casso with information to locate a mobster suspected in a murder plot against Casso. The tip, however, led to another man with the same name who died in a hail of gunfire on Christmas Day 1986.
There are charges of racketeering, kidnapping, murder, obstruction of justice, and money laundering, and after the pair retired to Nevada they were distributing methamphetamine, according to the indictment. The list could have been longer; in January, prosecutors opted to drop two additional murder counts.
Eppolito, 57, and Caracappa, 64, are both insistent about their innocence. Caracappa went on "60 Minutes" in January to express his indignation.
"Totally ridiculous," he said of the charges. "It's ludicrous. Anybody that knows me knows I love the police department."
Caracappa spent 23 years with the NYPD, working his way up to detective first grade and helping to establish the department's nerve center for Mafia murder investigations before retiring in 1992.
Eppolito actually grew up in a mob family: His father, grandfather and an uncle were all members of the Gambino family. The contrast between his police work and his family life was detailed in his autobiography, "Mafia Cop: The Story of An Honest Cop Whose Family Was the Mob."
He joined the department in 1969, and also made detective first-grade. Before his 1990 retirement, Eppolito was known among fellow cops as a tough guy with plenty of street smarts. The partners settled in Las Vegas to enjoy their golden years. They were arrested on March 9, 2005, at a Las Vegas restaurant, and released on $5 million bail each.
Their trial promises to be one of the year's great legal spectacles.
The bombastic Cutler is best known for his work with Gotti. In one memorable opening statement, he dramatically spiked the indictment against Gotti in a courtroom trash can.
"Garbage!" he thundered.
Hayes, a former prosecutor, brings his impeccable attire and a glittering client list that includes Robert De Niro and Sean "Diddy" Combs. He was the model for take-no-prisoners defense attorney Tommy Killian in Tom Wolfe's "The Bonfire of the Vanities." Hayes said he's willing to let somebody else write about this case: "I already wrote a book."
If someone else takes up the challenge, there's always the chance of a movie - and Eppolito could play himself. He had a bit part in the Martin Scorsese mob classic "GoodFellas."
Thanks to Larry McShane
Gotti's Lawyer: Fuhgeddaboudit!
Friends of ours: Junior Gotti
Fuhgeddaboudit! John "Junior" Gotti's confident lawyer hopes his client will whack any plea bargains that desperate prosecutors now put on the table in the wake of his second stunning mistrial on racketeering charges. Spurred on by the 8-4 hung jury that was in favor of Junior on Friday, lawyer Charles Carnesie said yesterday that he'd advise Gotti to prepare his Teflon armor for a third trial - and ignore any plea deals. "It's a personal decision, something that he has to decide, but personally I'd be disappointed [if he took a deal]," Carnesie said.
Gotti was on the verge of pleading guilty last year to charges of racketeering and ordering the kidnapping of radio host Curtis Sliwa. But the deal, which would have had him serve seven years of a 10-year sentence, was rejected at the last minute. Gotti had said a major concern was protecting himself with immunity from future prosecutions.
It is possible that the chance to start his life afresh could now be offered if he is willing to admit to all of his crimes. But the attorney who negotiated that last plea deal agrees with Carnesie - and says Gotti should hold out for a hung-jury hat trick, which would be "as good as an acquittal." "If I was in the government's position, I'd go on my hands and knees, begging for a plea agreement," said his former lawyer, Jeffery Lichtman. "At some point, the government is going to have to let go of its Moby Dick."
Gotti, who is out on $7 million bail, left the Long Island mansion where he is under house arrest for about two hours yesterday. Dressed in black and wearing a baseball cap, he left home carrying a mysterious black bowling bag and lost tailing reporters in a black Infiniti sedan. While Gotti did not reveal his destination, under the terms of his house arrest, he can only visit his lawyer and church. He returned home by afternoon to play soccer with two of his sons.
Jury foreman Greg Rosenblum revealed that eight jurors bought Gotti's defense that he has not been involved in the mob since 1999, which would mean that the five-year statute of limitations on racketeering charges has expired. Those same eight, Rosenblum said, had enough reasonable doubt to clear Gotti of charges that he ordered two hoods to kidnap and beat Sliwa with baseball bats in 1992 after the radio talk show host's constant criticism of his father. The thugs ended up shooting Sliwa in the back of a cab.
Sliwa, still smarting from yet another mistrial, said yesterday that he was adamantly against any plea bargaining. "I've never been in favor of plea bargaining with the head of the Gambino crime family," he said. "Let's take a roll before the jury."
Fuhgeddaboudit! John "Junior" Gotti's confident lawyer hopes his client will whack any plea bargains that desperate prosecutors now put on the table in the wake of his second stunning mistrial on racketeering charges. Spurred on by the 8-4 hung jury that was in favor of Junior on Friday, lawyer Charles Carnesie said yesterday that he'd advise Gotti to prepare his Teflon armor for a third trial - and ignore any plea deals. "It's a personal decision, something that he has to decide, but personally I'd be disappointed [if he took a deal]," Carnesie said.
Gotti was on the verge of pleading guilty last year to charges of racketeering and ordering the kidnapping of radio host Curtis Sliwa. But the deal, which would have had him serve seven years of a 10-year sentence, was rejected at the last minute. Gotti had said a major concern was protecting himself with immunity from future prosecutions.
It is possible that the chance to start his life afresh could now be offered if he is willing to admit to all of his crimes. But the attorney who negotiated that last plea deal agrees with Carnesie - and says Gotti should hold out for a hung-jury hat trick, which would be "as good as an acquittal." "If I was in the government's position, I'd go on my hands and knees, begging for a plea agreement," said his former lawyer, Jeffery Lichtman. "At some point, the government is going to have to let go of its Moby Dick."
Gotti, who is out on $7 million bail, left the Long Island mansion where he is under house arrest for about two hours yesterday. Dressed in black and wearing a baseball cap, he left home carrying a mysterious black bowling bag and lost tailing reporters in a black Infiniti sedan. While Gotti did not reveal his destination, under the terms of his house arrest, he can only visit his lawyer and church. He returned home by afternoon to play soccer with two of his sons.
Jury foreman Greg Rosenblum revealed that eight jurors bought Gotti's defense that he has not been involved in the mob since 1999, which would mean that the five-year statute of limitations on racketeering charges has expired. Those same eight, Rosenblum said, had enough reasonable doubt to clear Gotti of charges that he ordered two hoods to kidnap and beat Sliwa with baseball bats in 1992 after the radio talk show host's constant criticism of his father. The thugs ended up shooting Sliwa in the back of a cab.
Sliwa, still smarting from yet another mistrial, said yesterday that he was adamantly against any plea bargaining. "I've never been in favor of plea bargaining with the head of the Gambino crime family," he said. "Let's take a roll before the jury."
Mob Hit: The Boss of Comedy?
It's hard to find anyone who will make a serious argument that "The Sopranos" is not great television. Sure, some squirm at the language and violence, but critics have plumbed the depths of their vocabularies for superlatives to describe the show since it debuted on HBO in 1999.
After a hiatus of almost two years, a new season begins Sunday; then, in 20 episodes, it will be over. What is it about this show that caused so many to call it a work of genius?
Most important is its choice of subject matter. The mob story, it might be argued, replaced the Western as the great American epic in the last third of the 20th century. As the counterculture was shredding the myth of the West into a million little pieces with movies such as "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," "The Wild Bunch" and even "Midnight Cowboy," the first two "Godfather" movies were winning Best Picture Oscars. Those films retold the American epic on the urban frontier. "Goodfellas" solidified the idea that "Mafia + Movie = Art."
The opening credits of "The Sopranos" seem ever so conscious of this fact. In 90 seconds, the story of the American dream is retold in a way that would warm the heart of any American studies professor.
It's a simple tale, really -- Tony Soprano driving from Manhattan to his home in suburban New Jersey -- but it's humming with symbols of the great immigration stories of upward mobility. The Statue of Liberty can be seen out the window of Tony's car as he moves down the turnpike through the toxic wastelands of urban industrialism to the old neighborhood, its streets lined with restaurants and small businesses.
As the trip continues, the houses get bigger, as do the spaces between each one, until he reaches his destination: a little estate with a swimming pool in a quiet wooded enclave. It's a trip many Americans have made, although it may have taken them a generation or two to do so, and one that many more Americans dream of making. Pretty deep for TV credits, don't you think?
The real stroke of genius in "The Sopranos," however, was that it took the idea of the artsy mob epic and turned it into farce. "The Sopranos" is a sitcom trapped in the body of a dramatic masterpiece. Many scenes in the show could work just fine with a laugh track.
"Family" is a major theme in most mob stories. Usually, as in "The Godfather" movies, family is presented with great gravitas and high tragedy, in the Shakespearean tradition. This is not the case in "The Sopranos." If the family in "The Godfather" resembles the feuding Plantagenets in Shakespeare's "Henry VI" plays, the family in "The Sopranos" resembles the Bundys in "Married . . . With Children."
In a clever sleight of hand, "The Sopranos" merged the epic mob story with the dysfunctional family sitcom. The clash of these two genres has provided some of the most irresistible moments in the show. While Tony is fretting over the imminent collapse of his criminal empire, for example, his wife is stressing over her need to get to the Sports Authority before it closes to buy gym socks. On another occasion, Tony whacks somebody while taking his daughter on a tour of college campuses.
As bizarre as the combination of sitcom and Mafia may seem on paper, it works -- brilliantly. Hiding in the Trojan horse of adrenaline-laced scenes of extreme violence and graphic sexuality, "The Sopranos" is one of the most insightful TV shows ever made about a multi-generational American family.
Tony's problem, however, is that he doesn't want to be in a comedy; he wants to be in "The Godfather." Tony is a mobster in a world where mobster movies win Academy Awards, but he believes that somehow he has missed the golden age described in those movies.
The nervous breakdown that sends Tony to the psychiatrist in the series's first episode was caused by just this anxiety. In his first confession to Dr. Melfi, he reports: "It's good to be in something from the ground floor. I came too late for that, I know. But lately, I'm getting the feeling that I came in at the end. The best is over."
Poor Tony has self-esteem issues.
"You tell people I'm nothin' compared to the people that used to run things," Tony shouts as he viciously beats a victim in one of many violent acts we've seen him perform over the years.
Tony's problem is simple. He wants people to think he's the Godfather, but deep down he's afraid they see him as Homer Simpson. In overcompensating for these feelings of inferiority, Tony has done many very bad things in the past five seasons -- and if he's not careful, it's going to get him killed in the sixth.
Thanks to Robert J. Thompson
After a hiatus of almost two years, a new season begins Sunday; then, in 20 episodes, it will be over. What is it about this show that caused so many to call it a work of genius?
Most important is its choice of subject matter. The mob story, it might be argued, replaced the Western as the great American epic in the last third of the 20th century. As the counterculture was shredding the myth of the West into a million little pieces with movies such as "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," "The Wild Bunch" and even "Midnight Cowboy," the first two "Godfather" movies were winning Best Picture Oscars. Those films retold the American epic on the urban frontier. "Goodfellas" solidified the idea that "Mafia + Movie = Art."
The opening credits of "The Sopranos" seem ever so conscious of this fact. In 90 seconds, the story of the American dream is retold in a way that would warm the heart of any American studies professor.
It's a simple tale, really -- Tony Soprano driving from Manhattan to his home in suburban New Jersey -- but it's humming with symbols of the great immigration stories of upward mobility. The Statue of Liberty can be seen out the window of Tony's car as he moves down the turnpike through the toxic wastelands of urban industrialism to the old neighborhood, its streets lined with restaurants and small businesses.
As the trip continues, the houses get bigger, as do the spaces between each one, until he reaches his destination: a little estate with a swimming pool in a quiet wooded enclave. It's a trip many Americans have made, although it may have taken them a generation or two to do so, and one that many more Americans dream of making. Pretty deep for TV credits, don't you think?
The real stroke of genius in "The Sopranos," however, was that it took the idea of the artsy mob epic and turned it into farce. "The Sopranos" is a sitcom trapped in the body of a dramatic masterpiece. Many scenes in the show could work just fine with a laugh track.
"Family" is a major theme in most mob stories. Usually, as in "The Godfather" movies, family is presented with great gravitas and high tragedy, in the Shakespearean tradition. This is not the case in "The Sopranos." If the family in "The Godfather" resembles the feuding Plantagenets in Shakespeare's "Henry VI" plays, the family in "The Sopranos" resembles the Bundys in "Married . . . With Children."
In a clever sleight of hand, "The Sopranos" merged the epic mob story with the dysfunctional family sitcom. The clash of these two genres has provided some of the most irresistible moments in the show. While Tony is fretting over the imminent collapse of his criminal empire, for example, his wife is stressing over her need to get to the Sports Authority before it closes to buy gym socks. On another occasion, Tony whacks somebody while taking his daughter on a tour of college campuses.
As bizarre as the combination of sitcom and Mafia may seem on paper, it works -- brilliantly. Hiding in the Trojan horse of adrenaline-laced scenes of extreme violence and graphic sexuality, "The Sopranos" is one of the most insightful TV shows ever made about a multi-generational American family.
Tony's problem, however, is that he doesn't want to be in a comedy; he wants to be in "The Godfather." Tony is a mobster in a world where mobster movies win Academy Awards, but he believes that somehow he has missed the golden age described in those movies.
The nervous breakdown that sends Tony to the psychiatrist in the series's first episode was caused by just this anxiety. In his first confession to Dr. Melfi, he reports: "It's good to be in something from the ground floor. I came too late for that, I know. But lately, I'm getting the feeling that I came in at the end. The best is over."
Poor Tony has self-esteem issues.
"You tell people I'm nothin' compared to the people that used to run things," Tony shouts as he viciously beats a victim in one of many violent acts we've seen him perform over the years.
Tony's problem is simple. He wants people to think he's the Godfather, but deep down he's afraid they see him as Homer Simpson. In overcompensating for these feelings of inferiority, Tony has done many very bad things in the past five seasons -- and if he's not careful, it's going to get him killed in the sixth.
Thanks to Robert J. Thompson
Monday, March 13, 2006
Gotti Mob Magic Does It Again with Hung Jury.
Friends of ours: Junior Gotti
Call him the Teflon Scion. John "Junior" Gotti, son of the Teflon Don, slipped clear of the feds' determined grasp yet again yesterday with his second mistrial in eight
months after prosecutors apparently failed to convince two-thirds of the jury that he was guilty of racketeering.
After less than 10 hours of deliberation, the jury foreman wrote a note to Manhattan federal Judge Shira Scheindlin: "We are completely DEADLOCKED. More time will not change the views in this room."
The foreman, Greg Rosenblum, later revealed that eight jurors believed Gotti's claim that he had quit the mob before July 22, 1999 - meaning the five-year statute of limitations would have expired on racketeering charges that the feds brought in 2004. Rosenblum told WNBC/Channel 4 those same eight jurors also had enough doubt in their mind to clear Junior on charges he ordered the kidnapping of radio host Curtis Sliwa.
"How many people on that jury felt that he had given up the mob life? Eight. And the other four felt . . . that he was still involved in some way," Rosenblum said. The foreman accused the four holdouts of finding Gotti guilty before giving him a chance to prove his innocence - and said that nothing the defense did was going to change their minds. "I was hoping that everyone could have at least kept an open mind, but it seemed like certain individuals on the jury had him guilty beforehand," Rosenblum said. "There was no evidence that we could directly see that linked him to anything since 1999 that would implicate him in any sort of extortion or loan-sharking schemes."
On Sliwa's kidnapping, Rosenblum said, "The eight that felt that he had withdrawn [from the mob] also felt that there was enough evidence pointing, enough doubt, enough reasonable doubt, that he had nothing to do with it whatsoever."
As the judge excused the panel, a relieved Gotti hugged his lawyer, Charles Carnesi, while another member of his defense team called Junior's wife, Kim. "He's coming home again - it was a good result," lawyer Seth Ginsberg told her. But Kim Gotti already knew, because minutes earlier a Post photographer had told her the verdict as she raked leaves on the front lawn of her Oyster Bay Cove, L.I., mansion.
"No way!" she exclaimed, dropping the rake and running inside the house. But her husband's trials are not over. The prosecution team immediately asked the judge for a speedy retrial date. "We gotta do it one more time," said Junior, who is free, under house arrest, on $7 million bail. "I'm going to sleep in my own bed tonight . . . It's better than sleeping in the MCC [Metropolitan Correctional Center]. "I'm happy," he added as hugged his mother, Victoria. "I'm financially ruined, but what are you gonna do?"
His mother, Victoria, who heard testimony about her Dapper Don Juan hubby's love affairs and allegedly illegitimate children during the trial, was not happy. "I'm just very disgusted at this point . . . They're trying to railroad my son," she snarled. Her namesake daughter, Victoria, chimed in: "We wanted an acquittal. I just think they're going to keep on trying. The fact that they're not winning is great."
As he hopped into a car to head home, Gotti told a crush of reporters, "I'm going to see my children." On the prospect of another retrial, he said: "I'm worried. I'm
concerned always. I've got five children home. I want to raise my children."
If convicted, Gotti, 42, faced up to 30 years in prison for kidnapping and extortion. He is accused of a long-running racketeering conspiracy - including sending two mob hoods to kidnap and beat up Sliwa in 1992. Defense attorneys admitted young Gotti had been active in organized crime, but insisted he had withdrawn in early 1999.
Sliwa, the founder of the Guardian Angels, had testified about the shooting attack at the retrial - as he did at the first trial. But this time around, his WABC radio talk-show partner, civil-rights lawyer Ron Kuby, took the stand as a defense witness and, in bombshell testimony, supported Gotti's claim that he had quit the Gambino crime family. He testified that Gotti told him in 1998 that "he was sick of this life . . . He wanted to rejoin his family and be done with this."
Sliwa, who rushed to the federal courthouse when he learned about the hung jury, blasted Kuby for betraying him and said he wouldn't be surprised if his former pal was at Gotti's home "toasting his friend."
In seeking a speedy retrial, prosecutor Michael McGovern lobbied for an April 17 start, but the defense pushed for a later date. "The lawyers on this team haven't been paid for this trial, now we're talking about another trial," said defense lawyer Debra Karlstein. The judge ordered lawyers for both sides to return to court on Monday to set a retrial date.
Gotti's pregnant wife rushed out onto their front lawn with the family dog and three of her kids when he pulled up shortly before 5 p.m. "I feel great, these are my three sons," Junior Gotti said, posing with them briefly before disappearing inside. Asked what his wife had prepared for dinner, he said, "Whatever she makes - any free meal is a good meal."
Call him the Teflon Scion. John "Junior" Gotti, son of the Teflon Don, slipped clear of the feds' determined grasp yet again yesterday with his second mistrial in eight
months after prosecutors apparently failed to convince two-thirds of the jury that he was guilty of racketeering.
After less than 10 hours of deliberation, the jury foreman wrote a note to Manhattan federal Judge Shira Scheindlin: "We are completely DEADLOCKED. More time will not change the views in this room."
The foreman, Greg Rosenblum, later revealed that eight jurors believed Gotti's claim that he had quit the mob before July 22, 1999 - meaning the five-year statute of limitations would have expired on racketeering charges that the feds brought in 2004. Rosenblum told WNBC/Channel 4 those same eight jurors also had enough doubt in their mind to clear Junior on charges he ordered the kidnapping of radio host Curtis Sliwa.
"How many people on that jury felt that he had given up the mob life? Eight. And the other four felt . . . that he was still involved in some way," Rosenblum said. The foreman accused the four holdouts of finding Gotti guilty before giving him a chance to prove his innocence - and said that nothing the defense did was going to change their minds. "I was hoping that everyone could have at least kept an open mind, but it seemed like certain individuals on the jury had him guilty beforehand," Rosenblum said. "There was no evidence that we could directly see that linked him to anything since 1999 that would implicate him in any sort of extortion or loan-sharking schemes."
On Sliwa's kidnapping, Rosenblum said, "The eight that felt that he had withdrawn [from the mob] also felt that there was enough evidence pointing, enough doubt, enough reasonable doubt, that he had nothing to do with it whatsoever."
As the judge excused the panel, a relieved Gotti hugged his lawyer, Charles Carnesi, while another member of his defense team called Junior's wife, Kim. "He's coming home again - it was a good result," lawyer Seth Ginsberg told her. But Kim Gotti already knew, because minutes earlier a Post photographer had told her the verdict as she raked leaves on the front lawn of her Oyster Bay Cove, L.I., mansion.
"No way!" she exclaimed, dropping the rake and running inside the house. But her husband's trials are not over. The prosecution team immediately asked the judge for a speedy retrial date. "We gotta do it one more time," said Junior, who is free, under house arrest, on $7 million bail. "I'm going to sleep in my own bed tonight . . . It's better than sleeping in the MCC [Metropolitan Correctional Center]. "I'm happy," he added as hugged his mother, Victoria. "I'm financially ruined, but what are you gonna do?"
His mother, Victoria, who heard testimony about her Dapper Don Juan hubby's love affairs and allegedly illegitimate children during the trial, was not happy. "I'm just very disgusted at this point . . . They're trying to railroad my son," she snarled. Her namesake daughter, Victoria, chimed in: "We wanted an acquittal. I just think they're going to keep on trying. The fact that they're not winning is great."
As he hopped into a car to head home, Gotti told a crush of reporters, "I'm going to see my children." On the prospect of another retrial, he said: "I'm worried. I'm
concerned always. I've got five children home. I want to raise my children."
If convicted, Gotti, 42, faced up to 30 years in prison for kidnapping and extortion. He is accused of a long-running racketeering conspiracy - including sending two mob hoods to kidnap and beat up Sliwa in 1992. Defense attorneys admitted young Gotti had been active in organized crime, but insisted he had withdrawn in early 1999.
Sliwa, the founder of the Guardian Angels, had testified about the shooting attack at the retrial - as he did at the first trial. But this time around, his WABC radio talk-show partner, civil-rights lawyer Ron Kuby, took the stand as a defense witness and, in bombshell testimony, supported Gotti's claim that he had quit the Gambino crime family. He testified that Gotti told him in 1998 that "he was sick of this life . . . He wanted to rejoin his family and be done with this."
Sliwa, who rushed to the federal courthouse when he learned about the hung jury, blasted Kuby for betraying him and said he wouldn't be surprised if his former pal was at Gotti's home "toasting his friend."
In seeking a speedy retrial, prosecutor Michael McGovern lobbied for an April 17 start, but the defense pushed for a later date. "The lawyers on this team haven't been paid for this trial, now we're talking about another trial," said defense lawyer Debra Karlstein. The judge ordered lawyers for both sides to return to court on Monday to set a retrial date.
Gotti's pregnant wife rushed out onto their front lawn with the family dog and three of her kids when he pulled up shortly before 5 p.m. "I feel great, these are my three sons," Junior Gotti said, posing with them briefly before disappearing inside. Asked what his wife had prepared for dinner, he said, "Whatever she makes - any free meal is a good meal."
Sliwa Bashes Kuby
Friends of ours: Junior Gotti
An enraged Curtis Sliwa yesterday lashed out at his radio talk-show partner Ron Kuby for helping John "Junior" Gotti - the man the Guardian Angel founder believes had him kidnapped and nearly killed - get another hung jury. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to go into that studio on Monday without wanting to literally do harm to this guy," Sliwa said of his WABC co-host after Gotti's retrial on racketeering charges was declared a mistrial.
Sliwa, wearing his trademark red Guardian Angels cap and satin jacket, blamed civil-rights lawyer Kuby for convincing at least some jurors that Gotti couldn't be convicted of racketeering, due to the statute of limitations, because he had quit organized crime more than five years before he was indicted.
"My very dear friend, who is a friend no more, didn't even give me a heads-up he would be testifying for my enemy," he said, adding, "It hurt me even more than the three hollow-point bullets and the baseball attack in 1992." Sliwa called Kuby's testimony Gotti's "ace in the hole" and said, "I wouldn't doubt that he's probably at [Gotti's home in] Oyster Bay . . . literally
toasting his friend."
Sliwa said he can't fault the jurors for being unable to agree on whether - or when - Gotti quit the mob. "If I were a juror and saw Ron Kuby willingly coming in and testifying for the guy who ordered the death of his friend and co-worker, I would have my doubts also," he said.
Kuby said he understands Sliwa's distress, but insisted he's not to blame for the hung jury. "He thinks that the Gottis ordered him shot, and I understand Curtis is upset about the statute-of-limitations problem, but that's not my doing," he said. He pointed out that after the first trial, Sliwa "lashed out at the jury, claiming that they had been reached by the Gottis. "This time he lashes out at me," Kuby said. "It's not about him. It's not about me. It's about the strength or weakness of the government's case."
Kuby stressed that "the jury hung the first time, when I had no involvement in the case." He added that Gotti's claim that he was quitting the mob is something he's heard from "every defendant that I have ever had" who pleads guilty, which is what Gotti was doing when he allegedly told Kuby in 1998 that he wanted out of "the life."
"They say they're sick of this life or they want to go home, they're tired of this . . . Whether they ultimately gave up their life of crime or not is something of which I have no knowledge." Kuby also insisted, "I'm not good friends with John Gotti Jr. I'm not even friends with him."
Of his next broadcast with Sliwa, he said, "On Monday, we go in and continue to try to do good radio."
An enraged Curtis Sliwa yesterday lashed out at his radio talk-show partner Ron Kuby for helping John "Junior" Gotti - the man the Guardian Angel founder believes had him kidnapped and nearly killed - get another hung jury. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to go into that studio on Monday without wanting to literally do harm to this guy," Sliwa said of his WABC co-host after Gotti's retrial on racketeering charges was declared a mistrial.
Sliwa, wearing his trademark red Guardian Angels cap and satin jacket, blamed civil-rights lawyer Kuby for convincing at least some jurors that Gotti couldn't be convicted of racketeering, due to the statute of limitations, because he had quit organized crime more than five years before he was indicted.
"My very dear friend, who is a friend no more, didn't even give me a heads-up he would be testifying for my enemy," he said, adding, "It hurt me even more than the three hollow-point bullets and the baseball attack in 1992." Sliwa called Kuby's testimony Gotti's "ace in the hole" and said, "I wouldn't doubt that he's probably at [Gotti's home in] Oyster Bay . . . literally
toasting his friend."
Sliwa said he can't fault the jurors for being unable to agree on whether - or when - Gotti quit the mob. "If I were a juror and saw Ron Kuby willingly coming in and testifying for the guy who ordered the death of his friend and co-worker, I would have my doubts also," he said.
Kuby said he understands Sliwa's distress, but insisted he's not to blame for the hung jury. "He thinks that the Gottis ordered him shot, and I understand Curtis is upset about the statute-of-limitations problem, but that's not my doing," he said. He pointed out that after the first trial, Sliwa "lashed out at the jury, claiming that they had been reached by the Gottis. "This time he lashes out at me," Kuby said. "It's not about him. It's not about me. It's about the strength or weakness of the government's case."
Kuby stressed that "the jury hung the first time, when I had no involvement in the case." He added that Gotti's claim that he was quitting the mob is something he's heard from "every defendant that I have ever had" who pleads guilty, which is what Gotti was doing when he allegedly told Kuby in 1998 that he wanted out of "the life."
"They say they're sick of this life or they want to go home, they're tired of this . . . Whether they ultimately gave up their life of crime or not is something of which I have no knowledge." Kuby also insisted, "I'm not good friends with John Gotti Jr. I'm not even friends with him."
Of his next broadcast with Sliwa, he said, "On Monday, we go in and continue to try to do good radio."
Saturday, March 11, 2006
Reputed Gambino leaders reject plea deal
Friends of ours: Gambino Crime Family, Arnold "Zeke" Squitieri, Anthony "The Genius" Megale, Alphonse Sisca
The reputed leaders of the Gambino crime family rejected a plea offer Wednesday that would have headed off a New York trial and the testimony of an FBI agent who prosecutors said infiltrated the Mafia family, an attorney said.
Arnold "Zeke" Squitieri, who allegedly served as Gambino boss, and Anthony "The Genius" Megale, who prosecutors said was the family's No. 2 man, were among dozens of people arrested in the New York mob sweep last year.
Federal prosecutors offered a plea deal that included a wide range of prison sentences of up to 15 years for nine defendants in the case, said Stephan Seeger, who represents Megale.
The defendants had until Wednesday to accept the offer and Seeger said it was rejected because all the defendants couldn't agree. He said he expects some defendants, including Megale, will continue negotiating before trial.
Squitieri's attorney, Gerald Shargel, had no comment on the negotiations and said he was preparing for the May 8 trial.
The U.S. attorney's office in New York had no comment Wednesday. Documents on file in New Haven, where Megale faces up to 6{ years in prison on a related case, also describe the negotiations.
Prosecutors say Squitieri, Megale and other defendants made millions of dollars through extortion, loan sharking, illegal gambling and other crimes during the past decade.
Megale, 52, of Stamford, was Connecticut's highest ranking gangster, prosecutors said. He pleaded guilty in October to racketeering conspiracy in Connecticut but denies being the Gambino underboss.
An FBI agent in the New York case posed as a mobster and helped make hundreds of secret recordings, authorities said. He was so convincing, the FBI said, he was considered for Mafia membership.
Attorney John L. Pollok, who represents reputed Mafia captain Alphonse Sisca, said Wednesday morning that plea negotiations have been difficult because prosecutors insisted all nine defendants take the deal.
Megale's attorneys are trying to negotiate a deal in which his sentence could run concurrently with whatever he receives in Connecticut.
Thanks to Matt Apuzzo
The reputed leaders of the Gambino crime family rejected a plea offer Wednesday that would have headed off a New York trial and the testimony of an FBI agent who prosecutors said infiltrated the Mafia family, an attorney said.
Arnold "Zeke" Squitieri, who allegedly served as Gambino boss, and Anthony "The Genius" Megale, who prosecutors said was the family's No. 2 man, were among dozens of people arrested in the New York mob sweep last year.
Federal prosecutors offered a plea deal that included a wide range of prison sentences of up to 15 years for nine defendants in the case, said Stephan Seeger, who represents Megale.
The defendants had until Wednesday to accept the offer and Seeger said it was rejected because all the defendants couldn't agree. He said he expects some defendants, including Megale, will continue negotiating before trial.
Squitieri's attorney, Gerald Shargel, had no comment on the negotiations and said he was preparing for the May 8 trial.
The U.S. attorney's office in New York had no comment Wednesday. Documents on file in New Haven, where Megale faces up to 6{ years in prison on a related case, also describe the negotiations.
Prosecutors say Squitieri, Megale and other defendants made millions of dollars through extortion, loan sharking, illegal gambling and other crimes during the past decade.
Megale, 52, of Stamford, was Connecticut's highest ranking gangster, prosecutors said. He pleaded guilty in October to racketeering conspiracy in Connecticut but denies being the Gambino underboss.
An FBI agent in the New York case posed as a mobster and helped make hundreds of secret recordings, authorities said. He was so convincing, the FBI said, he was considered for Mafia membership.
Attorney John L. Pollok, who represents reputed Mafia captain Alphonse Sisca, said Wednesday morning that plea negotiations have been difficult because prosecutors insisted all nine defendants take the deal.
Megale's attorneys are trying to negotiate a deal in which his sentence could run concurrently with whatever he receives in Connecticut.
Thanks to Matt Apuzzo
The Other Problem at the Port
Friends of ours: Gambino Crime family, Genovese Crime family, Anthony Anastasio
With all the recent talk about security vulnerabilities at the nation's ports, one subject goes virtually unmentioned. The men who actually control many of the nation's docks, especially on the Eastern seaboard, are in the hip pocket of the Mafia and have been for decades.
Regardless of whether or not a Dubai-owned company manages operations at these ports -- currently the source of much hand-wringing in Washington -- many of those with the most direct access to the billions of tons of cargo that move through those ports owe their jobs to the mob.
How can that be? It all has to do with the peculiar institution of the union hiring hall. No matter who owns or operates the ports, the union, not the employer, actually assigns workers to jobs. You can't work unless you carry a union card. And on East Coast and Gulf ports, the union card belongs to the International Longshoreman's Association (ILA), one of the most mobbed-up unions in the country.
In July 2005, the U.S. Department of Justice filed suit under the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act (RICO) against the ILA, which targets the entire 31-member ILA executive council, including the president, secretary-treasurer, executive vice president, general vice president and more than two dozen others.
In a press release accompanying the suit, the Justice Department notes, "For decades the waterfront has been the setting for corruption and violence stemming from organized crime's influence over labor unions operating there, including the ILA and its affiliated locals, as well as port-related businesses. Since the late 1950s, two organized crime families -- the Gambino family and the Genovese family -- have shared control of various ports, with the Gambino family primarily exercising its influence at commercial shipping terminals in Brooklyn and Staten Island, and the Genovese family primarily controlling those in Manhattan, New Jersey and the Port of Miami."
The Justice Department has already won convictions against more than a dozen high-level Gambino and Genovese mobsters who controlled docks on the East Coast and is also seeking convictions of several ILA officials. The government has charged these men with extorting money from waterfront businesses and terminal operators and extorting thousands of dollars from individuals seeking employment on the docks, among other crimes.
And this recent spate of ILA indictments is only the most recent example in the long history of organized crime control over the union. New York University law professor James B. Jacobs describes that history in his new book, "Mobsters, Unions, and Feds: The Mafia and the American Labor Movement." "Cosa Nostra became the primary power on the New York harbor waterfront in 1937, when Anthony Anastasio . . . took control of the six New York harbor locals," says Jacobs, and it has remained so ever since. In the 1970s, the federal government won convictions of more than 100 mobsters, including 20 ILA officials, among them ILA Vice President Anthony Scotto.
Yet despite this sordid history, few lawmakers who profess concern about port security seem in the slightest bit worried that the ILA's role on the docks may constitute a huge security risk. The ILA contributes millions of dollars each election cycle. In the 2004 election cycle, the ILA's political action committee (PAC) had over $7 million cash on hand to distribute to candidates.
Among the top recipients of ILA PAC money in the last few elections were Sens. Frank Lautenberg, D-NJ, Robert Menendez, D-NJ, Barbara Mikulski, D-Md., Chuck Schumer, D-NY, and Hillary Rodham Clinton, D-NY, all of whom represent states with important ports. Some of these same senators are among the chief critics of the Dubai port deal, but they are noticeably silent when it comes to mob influence in the union that actually controls who works on these ports.
Union bosses who would rob their members of pensions and health benefits, extort money to secure jobs on the docks, and use the docks to run gambling, loan sharking and other illegal enterprises could just as easily facilitate terrorists hoping to slip agents or weapons into the country, perhaps unwittingly, for the right price. But few in Washington seem to have considered the risk. The Dubai deal is not the only port issue that deserves more congressional scrutiny; ILA corruption surely deserves a close look as well.
Thanks to Linda Chavez
With all the recent talk about security vulnerabilities at the nation's ports, one subject goes virtually unmentioned. The men who actually control many of the nation's docks, especially on the Eastern seaboard, are in the hip pocket of the Mafia and have been for decades.
Regardless of whether or not a Dubai-owned company manages operations at these ports -- currently the source of much hand-wringing in Washington -- many of those with the most direct access to the billions of tons of cargo that move through those ports owe their jobs to the mob.
How can that be? It all has to do with the peculiar institution of the union hiring hall. No matter who owns or operates the ports, the union, not the employer, actually assigns workers to jobs. You can't work unless you carry a union card. And on East Coast and Gulf ports, the union card belongs to the International Longshoreman's Association (ILA), one of the most mobbed-up unions in the country.
In July 2005, the U.S. Department of Justice filed suit under the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act (RICO) against the ILA, which targets the entire 31-member ILA executive council, including the president, secretary-treasurer, executive vice president, general vice president and more than two dozen others.
In a press release accompanying the suit, the Justice Department notes, "For decades the waterfront has been the setting for corruption and violence stemming from organized crime's influence over labor unions operating there, including the ILA and its affiliated locals, as well as port-related businesses. Since the late 1950s, two organized crime families -- the Gambino family and the Genovese family -- have shared control of various ports, with the Gambino family primarily exercising its influence at commercial shipping terminals in Brooklyn and Staten Island, and the Genovese family primarily controlling those in Manhattan, New Jersey and the Port of Miami."
The Justice Department has already won convictions against more than a dozen high-level Gambino and Genovese mobsters who controlled docks on the East Coast and is also seeking convictions of several ILA officials. The government has charged these men with extorting money from waterfront businesses and terminal operators and extorting thousands of dollars from individuals seeking employment on the docks, among other crimes.
And this recent spate of ILA indictments is only the most recent example in the long history of organized crime control over the union. New York University law professor James B. Jacobs describes that history in his new book, "Mobsters, Unions, and Feds: The Mafia and the American Labor Movement." "Cosa Nostra became the primary power on the New York harbor waterfront in 1937, when Anthony Anastasio . . . took control of the six New York harbor locals," says Jacobs, and it has remained so ever since. In the 1970s, the federal government won convictions of more than 100 mobsters, including 20 ILA officials, among them ILA Vice President Anthony Scotto.
Yet despite this sordid history, few lawmakers who profess concern about port security seem in the slightest bit worried that the ILA's role on the docks may constitute a huge security risk. The ILA contributes millions of dollars each election cycle. In the 2004 election cycle, the ILA's political action committee (PAC) had over $7 million cash on hand to distribute to candidates.
Among the top recipients of ILA PAC money in the last few elections were Sens. Frank Lautenberg, D-NJ, Robert Menendez, D-NJ, Barbara Mikulski, D-Md., Chuck Schumer, D-NY, and Hillary Rodham Clinton, D-NY, all of whom represent states with important ports. Some of these same senators are among the chief critics of the Dubai port deal, but they are noticeably silent when it comes to mob influence in the union that actually controls who works on these ports.
Union bosses who would rob their members of pensions and health benefits, extort money to secure jobs on the docks, and use the docks to run gambling, loan sharking and other illegal enterprises could just as easily facilitate terrorists hoping to slip agents or weapons into the country, perhaps unwittingly, for the right price. But few in Washington seem to have considered the risk. The Dubai deal is not the only port issue that deserves more congressional scrutiny; ILA corruption surely deserves a close look as well.
Thanks to Linda Chavez
American Metaphor
Bada bing! 'The Sopranos' is back for its sixth and final season. But what does it say about family, about women, about the Italian-American identity? And how did it become the biggest phenomenon on television?
NEARLY two years since its last new episode aired on HBO in June of 2004, the dark, startling, multiaward-winning series The Sopranos will return to cable television this Sunday (March 12, 9pm) for what the show's creator and mainstay, David Chase, says will be its final season of 20 episodes. A dozen will air this spring, with a coda of eight more beginning in January of 2007.
Although getting information on the upcoming season has been almost as difficult as locating bin Laden (though, unlike HBO, at least bin Laden sends out preview tapes), rumors and sources close to the show (I communicated with someone who has seen the opening four episodes) indicate that a major "hit" takes place in the season opener and that bloodshed between one of New York's major five mob families and the rogue northern Jersey-based Sopranos gang flows freely during the new first four installments.
All of the series' major surviving characters are back for the final run—at least at the beginning: the show's lead and center of gravity, Tony Soprano (James Gandolfini), his enabling wife, Carmela (Edie Falco), his nephew and heir apparent, Christopher Moltisanti (Michael Imperioli), Tony's psychiatrist, Dr. Jennifer Melfi (Lorraine Bracco), and his aging albeit sly uncle, Corrado "Junior" Soprano (Dominic Chianese).
Tony's two kids are back, too, of course: his ever-blooming daughter, Meadow, (Jamie-Lynn Sigler) and his sullen, petulant son, Anthony Jr., or "A.J." (Robert Iler). Their respective passages through adolescence over the past seven years have been truly something to behold—both painful and enchanting at the same time—and their simple biological transformation has added an element of veritas to the show that no story line ever could.
Rounding out la famiglia Soprano, both through blood and by oath, in the final run are Tony's consiglieri Silvio Dante (Steven Van Zandt), capo Paulie "Walnuts" Gualtieri (Tony Sirico), the dignified New York crime boss, Johnny "Sack" Sacramoni (Vincent Curatola), now sitting in an orange jumpsuit in the federal pen, and his volatile underling, Phil Leotardo (Frank Vincent), filling in for him with a vengeance on the mean streets of the Eastern seaboard.
It takes more than a scorecard to follow the action on the Sopranos (there have been 65 episodes to date over the past five seasons, going back to 1999), and for the newly initiated or just casual observer who wants to get into the swing of things, HBO provides plenty of background information on both character relationships and plotline at HBO.com. And all five seasons are now available in DVD.
Season 5 culminated in a vortex of violence, with Tony whacking his cousin Tony Blundetto (played brilliantly by Steve Buscemi), and Silvio brutally taking out Christopher's girlfriend Adriana (played with equal brilliance by Drea de Matteo in an extremely limiting role), who had been turned over by the feds.
That's not to mention an escalating series of murders between the New York and Jersey families, with Leotardo seeking revenge against Tony. That conflict promises to be central to the new season and at the heart of the show's epilogue. The inside word I got is that Paulie Walnuts and Tony's son, A.J, are at the center of this early drama.
Growing Up Soprano: Tony Soprano, as played by James Gandolfini, combines the fathering genius of Homer Simpson with the insane anger issues of Ralph Kramden. Is this the American father?
The new season begins just about a year after we last saw the family, with Tony escaping the feds and Johnny Sack on his way to prison. Tony and Carmela are apparently reconciled, though the terms of their cease-fire are cloudy at best.
Unlike in past series openings, however, there's not a new antagonist brought in to serve as Tony's season-long foil. The plotline turns inward. There's been plenty of shit left on the table during the first five seasons, and the characters go at each other trying to put it all back neatly in place. Murder becomes the mode de jour for finding order amid the social entropy.
There's also every indication that Chase is taking the show's physical violence—of which there has always been plenty—to astonishing new heights, while at the same time focusing more on the individuality of the show's major characters separate from their respective broods.
I also have learned that the theme of the concluding season is drawn from a prose fragment by the late junkie Beat writer William S. Burroughs, about the Egyptian belief that we have seven souls. A passage from the fragment, set to music, serves as an epigram to the first episode: "Number six is Khaibit, the Shadow, Memory, your whole past conditioning from this and other lives ..."
So no one seems to be quite happy with their plight at the beginning of Season 6 (welcome to the new millennium, baby); indeed, everybody in the show—and I do mean everybody—has an acute case of agita, nearly all of whom blame Tony for their fate in la vita.
Except, of course, the anxiety-riddled Tony himself, who blames everyone else. There are rivers of underlying psychological themes to The Sopranos, and three of them are denial, rationalization and projection of responsibility.
I, for one, have never taken the show's often gratuitous violence too seriously; there's a slightly cartoonish quality to it all (and to some of the made guys for that matter, most notably Paulie and Silvio, with the dolled-up hairdos).
I'm sorry, but the talking-fish scene after Tony and his boys bump off longtime pal and confidant "Big" Pussy Bompensiero (played by the much missed Vincent Pastore) in Season 2 took away the edge—and tragic horror—of Pussy's hit. This was dark dramatic comedy at its best.
If The Sopranos gets back to the complexities of its characters in Season 6 rather than focusing on the free-flowing sausa marinella across the screen, it will be all for the better.
After the series gained force in its opening season with its precise focus on character development, particularly around Tony and the complex relationships with the women in his life (most notably his mother, his wife, his shrink and his mistress), it lost its way during the second season by getting sucked into its own stereotypes, only to find its way again, if in bits and spurts, during the last three seasons.
Chase, a Stanford film school grad from the '70s who was raised in an Italian-American family in New Jersey (his family's real name is DeCesare), wrote and directed many of the initial episodes (while, amazingly, executive-producing all the way through) and has continued to guide the writing and the overall arc of the plotline to its conclusion.
Chase admittedly has been captivated by mob movies since his childhood. "The Mob provides an essential set of contradictions in Tony Soprano's character," Chase said in a 2001 interview. "It also gives you the possibility of danger and then hours of non-danger. And it gives you a world that is something allegedly private and secret."
In the end, Chase, like Tony, will be the point guy responsible for the show's concluding triumph or failure.
With such an evaluation in mind, I think that it is fair to claim that no American television show—not even All in the Family in the 1970s—has captured the American consciousness and mind-set for such a sustained period as has The Sopranos. And make no mistake about it, The Sopranos is rooted, and rooted deeply, in television's half-century portrayal of the dysfunctional American family.
Contrary to the perception of most American television critics, who have attributed much of the show's artistic success to its cinematic lineage, there is, in fact, a good deal of The Honeymooners, The Flintstones and, perhaps even more, The Simpsons ingrained in Chase's portrait of the American family than there is of the Godfather trilogy or other great American mob films. It's a soap opera writ large.
Certainly, the character of Tony—so often henpecked and repeatedly challenged by his kids and underlings, while confused and irritated by life's minutiae—resembles Ralph Kramden or Fred Flintstone far more than he does Vito, Sonny or Michael Corleone.
Tony is bumbling, clumsy and, at times, inarticulate. And he kills lots of people. He is the ultimate anti-hero. He makes silly, even stupid, jokes that he laughs at, gets cute with his therapist and even awkwardly tries to seduce her.
He is vulnerable in ways that no mob boss has ever been portrayed in American dramatic film, and it's there, in that vulnerability, that the audience can actually identify with Tony and even like his character, relate to it and embrace it, in ways that we never could with other filmic dons. He is an American everyman—good and evil wrapped into one.
I should confess at this point that I have had conflicted feelings, over the past seven years, toward the show. I was raised, through my mother's side, in a fourth-generation Italian-American fishing family on the West Coast, one with loose connections to crime families in both Chicago and New York (and later Los Angeles and San Francisco) that stretch back to the rum-running days of Prohibition. I grew up knowing how the mob worked and to respect it from a distance.
Even with that background context, I have been offended at times, as have some of my family members, by the ways in which Americans of Italian descent have been portrayed in gangster films in general, dating back to the early '30s (with the likes of Little Caesar and Scarface) on through to the present-day Sopranos.
Celebrated author and cultural critic Camille Paglia recently skewered The Sopranos on these very grounds. "They all act like Joey Buttafuoco. It's a travesty," she declared. "It is a debased characterization of Italians." But as I recently explained to a very close cousin of mine who doesn't watch The Sopranos because of such feelings, one of the reasons I'm attracted to the show is because I miss (and miss desperately at that) so much of the Italian-based culture that is portrayed in the show.
From the food to the music (I love those little dabs of Sinatra and Dean Martin, and even more, Bob Dylan imitating Dean Martin) to Roman Catholic ritual to men publicly embracing each other to the bonds that are demanded in a close-knit family structure—that which constitutes stereotypical Italian-American behavior in so much of cinema and television—is exactly what I loved and cherished during the early decades of my life. And long for so much today.
That said, there can be no doubt that Italianess—that which is perceived to have Italian roots, both good and bad, in American culture—is what attracts so many Americans (along with audiences worldwide) to such depictions. And this is even more true with The Sopranos, where so many of the portrayals are over-the-top.
Italians, in this cultural vernacular, are spontaneous, romantic, sensual, impulsive—all traits that have been suppressed by modern Wonder Bread American culture. To be Italian is liberating, if only vicariously, through the silver screen or, now, the plasma. Italians have yet to be incorporated into cultural sensibilities of "whiteness;" they remain on the margins of the mainstream, ethnic and unassimilated.
That said, I understand why the Italian-American Defamation League has been so strongly critical of The Sopranos, and they are absolutely correct that no such series would ever be allowed to wallow in such vicious and archaic stereotypes against another American ethnic group (save African Americans, of course, who are traditionally depicted as criminals and welfare schleps, including, I should note despicably, in The Sopranos.)
Both the best and worst of these Italian-American depictions take place in a beautiful yet emotionally chilling and artistically disturbing scene at the climax of Season 3, during the wake of Jackie Aprile Jr., (the son of Tony's former boss and the ex-lover of his daughter, Meadow).
Tony's uncle Junior, ever edging toward the outskirts of senility, breaks into a beautiful rendition of the Italian ballad "Curore Ingrata" ("Ungrateful Heart") amid the food and wine and trivial conversation in a corner of the room. He is encouraged by those assembled to embrace center stage, and they break into tears as he continues the song. As did I. But not Meadow, nor her younger sibling and cousins now four-generations removed from immigration and well stirred into the melting pot. They all giggle snidely as an inebriated Meadow, angered by the fate of being a mobster's daughter (though loving the perks) and sensing (accurately) that her father might have had something to do with Jackie's death, begins pelting her great uncle with bread from the table.
When Tony realizes that his daughter is the perpetrator of the assault, he goes to confront her, only to be further disrespected by his daughter, singing the banal words of Britney Spears' "Oops I Did It Again," her Ivy League pretensions and postures oozing from her smirk. But she knows trouble is coming and she dashes out the door.
This I can tell you. If one my siblings or cousins had ever disrespected an elder of ours like that in such a situation, there would have been a close-fisted response to the males, and an open-handed slap to the females. I can envision no other scenario. But that was two generations ago. Tony follows Meadow to the sidewalk, where she yells at him, "This is such bullshit," and stumbles across the street, nearly getting hit by a car in her escape.
Tony can only watch. Despite his power and his position, his agency is severely limited, and the chasm at that moment between Tony and his daughter, and between Tony and the generation that will succeed him, cannot be bridged.
It is a devastating realization for Tony.
The Feminine Mystique: 'The Sopranos' has often been accused of misogyny, especially in the third season, which featured extreme violence against women, including the rape of a central character.
No small amount of ink has been spilled assessing the portrayal of women in the show. And much of it focused on the first two seasons' relationship between Tony and his cold-hearted and poisonous mother, Livia, played to the freezing point by the late Nancy Marchand.
My family was full of Italian matriarchs, and I was raised by women from the first three generations (my great-grandmother, grandmother, aunts and mother), and I never encountered that level of bitterness or evil in any of them. Nor did I during the time I spent in exile, living in my family's hometown in Italy, where, in a social phenomenon called mamismo, something like 60 percent of the Italian male population live within three miles of their mothers.
As such, Livia's portrayal seemed exceedingly foreign to me, a ravaging exception to my personal experience of the Italian-American matriarchy.
That is not to say I haven't seen such behavior; I have. But to me it was so antithetical to the norm that I found its centrality in The Sopranos' opening two seasons patently offensive: We're talking the deep spaces of the cold storage unit here, beyond where they freeze the pork.
Chase has publicly acknowledged in several interviews that the portrayal of Livia was based on his own mother. "My mother was so downbeat, so relentlessly pessimistic," he noted, "and that, in Livia, all [came] from her."
In the pilot for the series (Episode 1), Tony declares: "My dad was tough, he ran his own crew. A guy like that, ... and my mother wore him down to a little nub. He was a squeakin' gerbil when he died."
Chase was obviously working out some dark family issues with that dialogue.
So be it. The relationship apparently fascinated much of America; it didn't me. In fact, it was one of the early turn-offs to the show.
Of course, in the absence of his mother (Marchand was ill for much of the first two seasons with lung cancer and died after filming the second), Tony's relationship with his wife, Carmela, assumed center stage. Once again, while many writers have viewed the growth and transition of Carmela in feminist terms, I find her character often weak and enabling, and astonishingly hypocritical. Most importantly, unlike Tony, she has little agency of her own.
Carmela, too, visited a shrink, and he told her candidly to leave Tony and his criminal ways. "One thing you can never say," he implored her coldly, "is that you haven't been told."
When she throws Tony out at the end of Season 4, she seems, finally, to be taking her destiny into her own hands. But when push comes to shove—when she has to decide between the material pleasures and safeguards provided by Tony and the mob vs. the unknown of life on her own—she chooses the former, in what is nothing less than a quid pro quid arrangement. If that's liberating, then we're all in trouble. Carmela is the ultimate Material Girl.
And then there is Dr. Jennifer Melfi, played brilliantly by the veteran New York actress Lorraine Bracco, who would seem to be the show's most independent woman. She is bright, intelligent, thoughtful and sensitive, but when it comes to Tony, she is duplicitous about her own attractions to him and, ultimately, cannot let him go as a patient.
She wears short skirts that she's constantly tugging at during her sessions with Tony, showing off her legs in a manner cinematically reminiscent of Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct or Anne Bancroft in The Graduate. At a base level, Melfi understands the power and attraction of Tony's life in the mob, and she is drawn to it like a moth to a flame.
I know many women who like The Sopranos—my wife included—but come a long way, baby, we have not.
In an interesting essay for Salon titled "Is The Sopranos a Chick Show?", Rebecca Traister conceded the show's feminist and "empowering" limitations, but pointed out that many of the issues addressed in the show, most often through Carmela, are those avoided by popular drama: "the trade-offs between fidelity and cold cash, Catholic guilt over divorce, stifled professional and sexual desires, a biting jealousy that threatens to overtake her happiness for her daughter on the brink of a much happier life than she will ever know."
That's all true. And The Sopranos has dealt with these and other issues of modern-day family life on an exceptionally high and rigorously nuanced plane. The series is, in Traister's words, "engrossing, and confusing, and genuine." With that I concur.
Yet when Carmela confronts Tony on his continuing indiscretions, Tony sends back a zinger that has no answers; it pierces the facade of the unstated trade-off in their marriage: "Yeah, 'cause what you really want is a little Hyundai and a simple gold heart on the chain."
It's the most devastating hit he delivers in the entire series.
In the end, portrayals of violence, family, organized crime, Italian-Americans, New Age parenting, the educational system, navigating adolescence, designer drugs, gender roles, Xanax and Prozac, et al., are not what ultimately captivates us about The Sopranos. They are all wrapped up under the larger rubric of American culture—and the American polity—as we stagger into the New Millennium.
Chase's vision is on a scale that is grand and epic. He is casting about for the American character, the American way of life, on a level comparable to that of Alexis de Tocqueville in his marvelous 19th-century study, Democracy in America. The Sopranos is as big as that.
It's a long way from the Jersey Shore to San Jose, but there are many ways in which The Sopranos resonates with the boom-and-bust years of the Silicon Valley economy. And local politics as well.
I couldn't help but think of Tony—who lines the pockets of politicians up and down the Jersey shore—when the whole garbage deal scandal oozed out of City Hall last year. Remember, Tony's listed occupation is as a "waste management consultant." But it goes farther than that. Virtually every character in The Sopranos is after the quick and easy buck. Everyone wants to be a millionaire, but no one wants to put in the time. Even Tony's newly emigrated Russian housekeeper steals from him—cutlery and gourmet capers from the pantry. "They have so much," she rationalizes.
The Sopranos is about greed and avarice and materialism and gluttony and unbridled ambition, all with no moral compass but the id. The Enron and Savings & Loan scandals and the hit on the World Trade Center and the war in Iraq are all backdrop plots to The Sopranos.
The Sopranos is about the American Dream turned inside out. And, of course, that's what did in the real Mafia. During the 1950s and '60s, the major mob families moved into drugs, particularly heroin, with their high profit margins and low overhead, and when busted, the lower end mobsters chose to squeal rather than doing the 10 to 15 years that came with a federal drug rap. And squeal they did, to the point where the Five Families of New York and the unsanctioned gangs of New Jersey have been essentially decimated.
The Sopranos are loosely based on a couple of Northern Jersey families, the DeCalvacantes and the Boiardos. They are not unknown to me. During the initial season of The Sopranos, in 1999, the feds actually wiretapped the real mobsters speaking about the TV show.
"Hey, what's this fucking thing Sopranos?," one of them asks. "What are they? ... Is this supposed to be us?"
In the end, the DeValcantes and the Boiardos and what was left of the families who weren't dead or in prison were left to petty crimes, like hustling cigarettes and running Viagra and or turning out fake "vintage" comic books. It has not been a pretty, or particularly fabled, denouement.
"Lately, I'm gettin' the feelin' that I came in at the end," Tony lamented in Season 1 about this era of mob history. "The best is over."
We'll see if the same holds true about the remarkable television series that bears his family's name.
Thanks to Geoffrey Dunn
NEARLY two years since its last new episode aired on HBO in June of 2004, the dark, startling, multiaward-winning series The Sopranos will return to cable television this Sunday (March 12, 9pm) for what the show's creator and mainstay, David Chase, says will be its final season of 20 episodes. A dozen will air this spring, with a coda of eight more beginning in January of 2007.
Although getting information on the upcoming season has been almost as difficult as locating bin Laden (though, unlike HBO, at least bin Laden sends out preview tapes), rumors and sources close to the show (I communicated with someone who has seen the opening four episodes) indicate that a major "hit" takes place in the season opener and that bloodshed between one of New York's major five mob families and the rogue northern Jersey-based Sopranos gang flows freely during the new first four installments.
All of the series' major surviving characters are back for the final run—at least at the beginning: the show's lead and center of gravity, Tony Soprano (James Gandolfini), his enabling wife, Carmela (Edie Falco), his nephew and heir apparent, Christopher Moltisanti (Michael Imperioli), Tony's psychiatrist, Dr. Jennifer Melfi (Lorraine Bracco), and his aging albeit sly uncle, Corrado "Junior" Soprano (Dominic Chianese).
Tony's two kids are back, too, of course: his ever-blooming daughter, Meadow, (Jamie-Lynn Sigler) and his sullen, petulant son, Anthony Jr., or "A.J." (Robert Iler). Their respective passages through adolescence over the past seven years have been truly something to behold—both painful and enchanting at the same time—and their simple biological transformation has added an element of veritas to the show that no story line ever could.
Rounding out la famiglia Soprano, both through blood and by oath, in the final run are Tony's consiglieri Silvio Dante (Steven Van Zandt), capo Paulie "Walnuts" Gualtieri (Tony Sirico), the dignified New York crime boss, Johnny "Sack" Sacramoni (Vincent Curatola), now sitting in an orange jumpsuit in the federal pen, and his volatile underling, Phil Leotardo (Frank Vincent), filling in for him with a vengeance on the mean streets of the Eastern seaboard.
It takes more than a scorecard to follow the action on the Sopranos (there have been 65 episodes to date over the past five seasons, going back to 1999), and for the newly initiated or just casual observer who wants to get into the swing of things, HBO provides plenty of background information on both character relationships and plotline at HBO.com. And all five seasons are now available in DVD.
Season 5 culminated in a vortex of violence, with Tony whacking his cousin Tony Blundetto (played brilliantly by Steve Buscemi), and Silvio brutally taking out Christopher's girlfriend Adriana (played with equal brilliance by Drea de Matteo in an extremely limiting role), who had been turned over by the feds.
That's not to mention an escalating series of murders between the New York and Jersey families, with Leotardo seeking revenge against Tony. That conflict promises to be central to the new season and at the heart of the show's epilogue. The inside word I got is that Paulie Walnuts and Tony's son, A.J, are at the center of this early drama.
Growing Up Soprano: Tony Soprano, as played by James Gandolfini, combines the fathering genius of Homer Simpson with the insane anger issues of Ralph Kramden. Is this the American father?
The new season begins just about a year after we last saw the family, with Tony escaping the feds and Johnny Sack on his way to prison. Tony and Carmela are apparently reconciled, though the terms of their cease-fire are cloudy at best.
Unlike in past series openings, however, there's not a new antagonist brought in to serve as Tony's season-long foil. The plotline turns inward. There's been plenty of shit left on the table during the first five seasons, and the characters go at each other trying to put it all back neatly in place. Murder becomes the mode de jour for finding order amid the social entropy.
There's also every indication that Chase is taking the show's physical violence—of which there has always been plenty—to astonishing new heights, while at the same time focusing more on the individuality of the show's major characters separate from their respective broods.
I also have learned that the theme of the concluding season is drawn from a prose fragment by the late junkie Beat writer William S. Burroughs, about the Egyptian belief that we have seven souls. A passage from the fragment, set to music, serves as an epigram to the first episode: "Number six is Khaibit, the Shadow, Memory, your whole past conditioning from this and other lives ..."
So no one seems to be quite happy with their plight at the beginning of Season 6 (welcome to the new millennium, baby); indeed, everybody in the show—and I do mean everybody—has an acute case of agita, nearly all of whom blame Tony for their fate in la vita.
Except, of course, the anxiety-riddled Tony himself, who blames everyone else. There are rivers of underlying psychological themes to The Sopranos, and three of them are denial, rationalization and projection of responsibility.
I, for one, have never taken the show's often gratuitous violence too seriously; there's a slightly cartoonish quality to it all (and to some of the made guys for that matter, most notably Paulie and Silvio, with the dolled-up hairdos).
I'm sorry, but the talking-fish scene after Tony and his boys bump off longtime pal and confidant "Big" Pussy Bompensiero (played by the much missed Vincent Pastore) in Season 2 took away the edge—and tragic horror—of Pussy's hit. This was dark dramatic comedy at its best.
If The Sopranos gets back to the complexities of its characters in Season 6 rather than focusing on the free-flowing sausa marinella across the screen, it will be all for the better.
After the series gained force in its opening season with its precise focus on character development, particularly around Tony and the complex relationships with the women in his life (most notably his mother, his wife, his shrink and his mistress), it lost its way during the second season by getting sucked into its own stereotypes, only to find its way again, if in bits and spurts, during the last three seasons.
Chase, a Stanford film school grad from the '70s who was raised in an Italian-American family in New Jersey (his family's real name is DeCesare), wrote and directed many of the initial episodes (while, amazingly, executive-producing all the way through) and has continued to guide the writing and the overall arc of the plotline to its conclusion.
Chase admittedly has been captivated by mob movies since his childhood. "The Mob provides an essential set of contradictions in Tony Soprano's character," Chase said in a 2001 interview. "It also gives you the possibility of danger and then hours of non-danger. And it gives you a world that is something allegedly private and secret."
In the end, Chase, like Tony, will be the point guy responsible for the show's concluding triumph or failure.
With such an evaluation in mind, I think that it is fair to claim that no American television show—not even All in the Family in the 1970s—has captured the American consciousness and mind-set for such a sustained period as has The Sopranos. And make no mistake about it, The Sopranos is rooted, and rooted deeply, in television's half-century portrayal of the dysfunctional American family.
Contrary to the perception of most American television critics, who have attributed much of the show's artistic success to its cinematic lineage, there is, in fact, a good deal of The Honeymooners, The Flintstones and, perhaps even more, The Simpsons ingrained in Chase's portrait of the American family than there is of the Godfather trilogy or other great American mob films. It's a soap opera writ large.
Certainly, the character of Tony—so often henpecked and repeatedly challenged by his kids and underlings, while confused and irritated by life's minutiae—resembles Ralph Kramden or Fred Flintstone far more than he does Vito, Sonny or Michael Corleone.
Tony is bumbling, clumsy and, at times, inarticulate. And he kills lots of people. He is the ultimate anti-hero. He makes silly, even stupid, jokes that he laughs at, gets cute with his therapist and even awkwardly tries to seduce her.
He is vulnerable in ways that no mob boss has ever been portrayed in American dramatic film, and it's there, in that vulnerability, that the audience can actually identify with Tony and even like his character, relate to it and embrace it, in ways that we never could with other filmic dons. He is an American everyman—good and evil wrapped into one.
I should confess at this point that I have had conflicted feelings, over the past seven years, toward the show. I was raised, through my mother's side, in a fourth-generation Italian-American fishing family on the West Coast, one with loose connections to crime families in both Chicago and New York (and later Los Angeles and San Francisco) that stretch back to the rum-running days of Prohibition. I grew up knowing how the mob worked and to respect it from a distance.
Even with that background context, I have been offended at times, as have some of my family members, by the ways in which Americans of Italian descent have been portrayed in gangster films in general, dating back to the early '30s (with the likes of Little Caesar and Scarface) on through to the present-day Sopranos.
Celebrated author and cultural critic Camille Paglia recently skewered The Sopranos on these very grounds. "They all act like Joey Buttafuoco. It's a travesty," she declared. "It is a debased characterization of Italians." But as I recently explained to a very close cousin of mine who doesn't watch The Sopranos because of such feelings, one of the reasons I'm attracted to the show is because I miss (and miss desperately at that) so much of the Italian-based culture that is portrayed in the show.
From the food to the music (I love those little dabs of Sinatra and Dean Martin, and even more, Bob Dylan imitating Dean Martin) to Roman Catholic ritual to men publicly embracing each other to the bonds that are demanded in a close-knit family structure—that which constitutes stereotypical Italian-American behavior in so much of cinema and television—is exactly what I loved and cherished during the early decades of my life. And long for so much today.
That said, there can be no doubt that Italianess—that which is perceived to have Italian roots, both good and bad, in American culture—is what attracts so many Americans (along with audiences worldwide) to such depictions. And this is even more true with The Sopranos, where so many of the portrayals are over-the-top.
Italians, in this cultural vernacular, are spontaneous, romantic, sensual, impulsive—all traits that have been suppressed by modern Wonder Bread American culture. To be Italian is liberating, if only vicariously, through the silver screen or, now, the plasma. Italians have yet to be incorporated into cultural sensibilities of "whiteness;" they remain on the margins of the mainstream, ethnic and unassimilated.
That said, I understand why the Italian-American Defamation League has been so strongly critical of The Sopranos, and they are absolutely correct that no such series would ever be allowed to wallow in such vicious and archaic stereotypes against another American ethnic group (save African Americans, of course, who are traditionally depicted as criminals and welfare schleps, including, I should note despicably, in The Sopranos.)
Both the best and worst of these Italian-American depictions take place in a beautiful yet emotionally chilling and artistically disturbing scene at the climax of Season 3, during the wake of Jackie Aprile Jr., (the son of Tony's former boss and the ex-lover of his daughter, Meadow).
Tony's uncle Junior, ever edging toward the outskirts of senility, breaks into a beautiful rendition of the Italian ballad "Curore Ingrata" ("Ungrateful Heart") amid the food and wine and trivial conversation in a corner of the room. He is encouraged by those assembled to embrace center stage, and they break into tears as he continues the song. As did I. But not Meadow, nor her younger sibling and cousins now four-generations removed from immigration and well stirred into the melting pot. They all giggle snidely as an inebriated Meadow, angered by the fate of being a mobster's daughter (though loving the perks) and sensing (accurately) that her father might have had something to do with Jackie's death, begins pelting her great uncle with bread from the table.
When Tony realizes that his daughter is the perpetrator of the assault, he goes to confront her, only to be further disrespected by his daughter, singing the banal words of Britney Spears' "Oops I Did It Again," her Ivy League pretensions and postures oozing from her smirk. But she knows trouble is coming and she dashes out the door.
This I can tell you. If one my siblings or cousins had ever disrespected an elder of ours like that in such a situation, there would have been a close-fisted response to the males, and an open-handed slap to the females. I can envision no other scenario. But that was two generations ago. Tony follows Meadow to the sidewalk, where she yells at him, "This is such bullshit," and stumbles across the street, nearly getting hit by a car in her escape.
Tony can only watch. Despite his power and his position, his agency is severely limited, and the chasm at that moment between Tony and his daughter, and between Tony and the generation that will succeed him, cannot be bridged.
It is a devastating realization for Tony.
The Feminine Mystique: 'The Sopranos' has often been accused of misogyny, especially in the third season, which featured extreme violence against women, including the rape of a central character.
No small amount of ink has been spilled assessing the portrayal of women in the show. And much of it focused on the first two seasons' relationship between Tony and his cold-hearted and poisonous mother, Livia, played to the freezing point by the late Nancy Marchand.
My family was full of Italian matriarchs, and I was raised by women from the first three generations (my great-grandmother, grandmother, aunts and mother), and I never encountered that level of bitterness or evil in any of them. Nor did I during the time I spent in exile, living in my family's hometown in Italy, where, in a social phenomenon called mamismo, something like 60 percent of the Italian male population live within three miles of their mothers.
As such, Livia's portrayal seemed exceedingly foreign to me, a ravaging exception to my personal experience of the Italian-American matriarchy.
That is not to say I haven't seen such behavior; I have. But to me it was so antithetical to the norm that I found its centrality in The Sopranos' opening two seasons patently offensive: We're talking the deep spaces of the cold storage unit here, beyond where they freeze the pork.
Chase has publicly acknowledged in several interviews that the portrayal of Livia was based on his own mother. "My mother was so downbeat, so relentlessly pessimistic," he noted, "and that, in Livia, all [came] from her."
In the pilot for the series (Episode 1), Tony declares: "My dad was tough, he ran his own crew. A guy like that, ... and my mother wore him down to a little nub. He was a squeakin' gerbil when he died."
Chase was obviously working out some dark family issues with that dialogue.
So be it. The relationship apparently fascinated much of America; it didn't me. In fact, it was one of the early turn-offs to the show.
Of course, in the absence of his mother (Marchand was ill for much of the first two seasons with lung cancer and died after filming the second), Tony's relationship with his wife, Carmela, assumed center stage. Once again, while many writers have viewed the growth and transition of Carmela in feminist terms, I find her character often weak and enabling, and astonishingly hypocritical. Most importantly, unlike Tony, she has little agency of her own.
Carmela, too, visited a shrink, and he told her candidly to leave Tony and his criminal ways. "One thing you can never say," he implored her coldly, "is that you haven't been told."
When she throws Tony out at the end of Season 4, she seems, finally, to be taking her destiny into her own hands. But when push comes to shove—when she has to decide between the material pleasures and safeguards provided by Tony and the mob vs. the unknown of life on her own—she chooses the former, in what is nothing less than a quid pro quid arrangement. If that's liberating, then we're all in trouble. Carmela is the ultimate Material Girl.
And then there is Dr. Jennifer Melfi, played brilliantly by the veteran New York actress Lorraine Bracco, who would seem to be the show's most independent woman. She is bright, intelligent, thoughtful and sensitive, but when it comes to Tony, she is duplicitous about her own attractions to him and, ultimately, cannot let him go as a patient.
She wears short skirts that she's constantly tugging at during her sessions with Tony, showing off her legs in a manner cinematically reminiscent of Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct or Anne Bancroft in The Graduate. At a base level, Melfi understands the power and attraction of Tony's life in the mob, and she is drawn to it like a moth to a flame.
I know many women who like The Sopranos—my wife included—but come a long way, baby, we have not.
In an interesting essay for Salon titled "Is The Sopranos a Chick Show?", Rebecca Traister conceded the show's feminist and "empowering" limitations, but pointed out that many of the issues addressed in the show, most often through Carmela, are those avoided by popular drama: "the trade-offs between fidelity and cold cash, Catholic guilt over divorce, stifled professional and sexual desires, a biting jealousy that threatens to overtake her happiness for her daughter on the brink of a much happier life than she will ever know."
That's all true. And The Sopranos has dealt with these and other issues of modern-day family life on an exceptionally high and rigorously nuanced plane. The series is, in Traister's words, "engrossing, and confusing, and genuine." With that I concur.
Yet when Carmela confronts Tony on his continuing indiscretions, Tony sends back a zinger that has no answers; it pierces the facade of the unstated trade-off in their marriage: "Yeah, 'cause what you really want is a little Hyundai and a simple gold heart on the chain."
It's the most devastating hit he delivers in the entire series.
In the end, portrayals of violence, family, organized crime, Italian-Americans, New Age parenting, the educational system, navigating adolescence, designer drugs, gender roles, Xanax and Prozac, et al., are not what ultimately captivates us about The Sopranos. They are all wrapped up under the larger rubric of American culture—and the American polity—as we stagger into the New Millennium.
Chase's vision is on a scale that is grand and epic. He is casting about for the American character, the American way of life, on a level comparable to that of Alexis de Tocqueville in his marvelous 19th-century study, Democracy in America. The Sopranos is as big as that.
It's a long way from the Jersey Shore to San Jose, but there are many ways in which The Sopranos resonates with the boom-and-bust years of the Silicon Valley economy. And local politics as well.
I couldn't help but think of Tony—who lines the pockets of politicians up and down the Jersey shore—when the whole garbage deal scandal oozed out of City Hall last year. Remember, Tony's listed occupation is as a "waste management consultant." But it goes farther than that. Virtually every character in The Sopranos is after the quick and easy buck. Everyone wants to be a millionaire, but no one wants to put in the time. Even Tony's newly emigrated Russian housekeeper steals from him—cutlery and gourmet capers from the pantry. "They have so much," she rationalizes.
The Sopranos is about greed and avarice and materialism and gluttony and unbridled ambition, all with no moral compass but the id. The Enron and Savings & Loan scandals and the hit on the World Trade Center and the war in Iraq are all backdrop plots to The Sopranos.
The Sopranos is about the American Dream turned inside out. And, of course, that's what did in the real Mafia. During the 1950s and '60s, the major mob families moved into drugs, particularly heroin, with their high profit margins and low overhead, and when busted, the lower end mobsters chose to squeal rather than doing the 10 to 15 years that came with a federal drug rap. And squeal they did, to the point where the Five Families of New York and the unsanctioned gangs of New Jersey have been essentially decimated.
The Sopranos are loosely based on a couple of Northern Jersey families, the DeCalvacantes and the Boiardos. They are not unknown to me. During the initial season of The Sopranos, in 1999, the feds actually wiretapped the real mobsters speaking about the TV show.
"Hey, what's this fucking thing Sopranos?," one of them asks. "What are they? ... Is this supposed to be us?"
In the end, the DeValcantes and the Boiardos and what was left of the families who weren't dead or in prison were left to petty crimes, like hustling cigarettes and running Viagra and or turning out fake "vintage" comic books. It has not been a pretty, or particularly fabled, denouement.
"Lately, I'm gettin' the feelin' that I came in at the end," Tony lamented in Season 1 about this era of mob history. "The best is over."
We'll see if the same holds true about the remarkable television series that bears his family's name.
Thanks to Geoffrey Dunn
Glen Ellyn man nabbed in FBI gambling bust
Friends of ours: Dominic Corrado, Peter Tocco, Jack Tocco
The ABC7 I-Team has learned that more than 100 FBI agents in Michigan and Illinois have busted a major organized crime gambling ring. The operation was headquartered in Detroit, but one of the 15 men charged lives in west suburban Glen Ellyn.
It is no coincidence that the feds have busted this mob sports betting business just as we head into the March madness of college basketball. Organized crime intelligence has long held that this is one of the most frenzied wagering periods of the year. But this operation has intrigued mob watchers. It was run by the Detroit mafia, but Dominic Corrado, one of the accused enforcers, lives within the boundaries of the Chicago outfit.
The 35-year-old Dominic Corrado lives on a pleasant street in the village of Glen Ellyn. Friday morning, FBI agents used the pre-dawn element of surprise, rousting Corrado from him from his sleep. "One of the things we also have to take into account is the potential for violence, the potential for fleeing," said Dan Roberts, Detroit FBI.
Corrado is one of 15 people charged in this indictment with operating an illegal sports betting business. Several of these arrestees are close relatives of notorious Detroit mafia leaders, hoodlums named Giacolone, Messina and Tocco.
Investigators say, even though Corrado lives in Glen Ellyn, his bloodline traces to several Detroit crime syndicate bosses the past 75 years, including relatives nicknamed Fats, Sparky and The Enforcer.
In this indictment, the current Corrado is accused of being an enforcer, prying payment from losing gamblers. "Various individuals owed money and would be told they had to pay. References were made to threats of violence," said Stephen Murphy, US attorney in Detroit.
Federal agents say that Corrado and the others charged laundered sports betting proceeds through this Detroit auto auction by buying and selling used cars. They allege that Peter Dominic Tocco worked with Corrado in the racketeering venture and that Tocco directed Corrado to muscle money from busted out gamblers. "We're talking about substantial amounts of money," said Murphy.
Tens of millions of dollars over several years, according to federal agents, who say that Corrado stood in front of a federal magistrate at the Dirksen Courthouse Monday and is now free on an unsecured bond. His next court appearance will be in Detroit.
Federal sources say much of their evidence against Corrado and the others was obtained during court-authorized wiretaps on telephone calls.
The I-Team left a message at Corrado's suburban Chicago home Monday afternoon but he has not responded. His alleged counterpart in the gambling operation, Peter D. Tocco, is the nephew of convicted Detroit mob boss Jack Tocco, and mobologists say the Tocco and Corrado families have long, rich histories in Detroit.
Thanks to Chuck Goudie
The ABC7 I-Team has learned that more than 100 FBI agents in Michigan and Illinois have busted a major organized crime gambling ring. The operation was headquartered in Detroit, but one of the 15 men charged lives in west suburban Glen Ellyn.
It is no coincidence that the feds have busted this mob sports betting business just as we head into the March madness of college basketball. Organized crime intelligence has long held that this is one of the most frenzied wagering periods of the year. But this operation has intrigued mob watchers. It was run by the Detroit mafia, but Dominic Corrado, one of the accused enforcers, lives within the boundaries of the Chicago outfit.
The 35-year-old Dominic Corrado lives on a pleasant street in the village of Glen Ellyn. Friday morning, FBI agents used the pre-dawn element of surprise, rousting Corrado from him from his sleep. "One of the things we also have to take into account is the potential for violence, the potential for fleeing," said Dan Roberts, Detroit FBI.
Corrado is one of 15 people charged in this indictment with operating an illegal sports betting business. Several of these arrestees are close relatives of notorious Detroit mafia leaders, hoodlums named Giacolone, Messina and Tocco.
Investigators say, even though Corrado lives in Glen Ellyn, his bloodline traces to several Detroit crime syndicate bosses the past 75 years, including relatives nicknamed Fats, Sparky and The Enforcer.
In this indictment, the current Corrado is accused of being an enforcer, prying payment from losing gamblers. "Various individuals owed money and would be told they had to pay. References were made to threats of violence," said Stephen Murphy, US attorney in Detroit.
Federal agents say that Corrado and the others charged laundered sports betting proceeds through this Detroit auto auction by buying and selling used cars. They allege that Peter Dominic Tocco worked with Corrado in the racketeering venture and that Tocco directed Corrado to muscle money from busted out gamblers. "We're talking about substantial amounts of money," said Murphy.
Tens of millions of dollars over several years, according to federal agents, who say that Corrado stood in front of a federal magistrate at the Dirksen Courthouse Monday and is now free on an unsecured bond. His next court appearance will be in Detroit.
Federal sources say much of their evidence against Corrado and the others was obtained during court-authorized wiretaps on telephone calls.
The I-Team left a message at Corrado's suburban Chicago home Monday afternoon but he has not responded. His alleged counterpart in the gambling operation, Peter D. Tocco, is the nephew of convicted Detroit mob boss Jack Tocco, and mobologists say the Tocco and Corrado families have long, rich histories in Detroit.
Thanks to Chuck Goudie
"Iceman" Dies
Friends of ours: Richard "The Iceman" Kuklinski
Richard Kuklinski, a notorious Mafia hitman known as "The Iceman" who claimed to have killed more than 100 people and was the subject of several books and two cable television documentaries, has died.
He was 70. He died Sunday at St. Francis Hospital in Trenton, Corrections spokeswoman Deirdre Fedkenheuer said Monday. She did not disclose the cause of death, but said it was not suspicious. Kuklinski was serving life prison sentences at New Jersey State Prison for two murders.
He claimed to have been a killer-for-hire for the mob. Just five years ago, he confessed to two murders on an HBO special, "The Iceman Confesses: Secrets of a Mafia Hit Man." Kuklinski earned the nickname "The Iceman" because he kept some victims' bodies in a North Bergen freezer.
Richard Kuklinski, a notorious Mafia hitman known as "The Iceman" who claimed to have killed more than 100 people and was the subject of several books and two cable television documentaries, has died.
He was 70. He died Sunday at St. Francis Hospital in Trenton, Corrections spokeswoman Deirdre Fedkenheuer said Monday. She did not disclose the cause of death, but said it was not suspicious. Kuklinski was serving life prison sentences at New Jersey State Prison for two murders.He claimed to have been a killer-for-hire for the mob. Just five years ago, he confessed to two murders on an HBO special, "The Iceman Confesses: Secrets of a Mafia Hit Man." Kuklinski earned the nickname "The Iceman" because he kept some victims' bodies in a North Bergen freezer.
Friday, March 10, 2006
2nd Mistrial for Junior Gotti
Friends of ours: Junior Gotti, Gambino Crime Family
A judge declared a mistrial in the case of alleged Mafia boss John "Junior" Gotti on Friday, the second time in six months jurors were unable to reach a verdict on racketeering and other charges against him.
Prosecutors immediately said they would seek a third trial for Gotti, whose late father was one of New York's most notorious crime bosses. A judge was due to set a date for a third trial on Monday, indicating the charges would not be dropped.
Gotti, whose defense focused on the claim that he had given up mob life, hugged his lawyers upon hearing of the mistrial and left the courthouse surrounded by a gaggle of reporters. "I want to raise my children," he said. "That's all I wanted in life."
Gotti, 42, was accused of leading the Gambino crime family, extorting construction companies, loan-sharking and ordering a brutal attack on Curtis Sliwa, the founder of New York's Guardian Angels anti-crime patrol, because of his critical comments about the Gotti family on his radio show.
A federal judge dismissed the jury because it failed to reach a verdict after deliberating since Wednesday. A previous trial also resulted in a deadlocked jury, forcing the retrial.
The second trial revealed new details of Gotti's love life and accounts of bloody shootings and secret mob codes, as well as rekindling New York's obsession with Mafia trials and Gotti's infamous father.
Prosecutors had accused Gotti of becoming the street boss of the Gambino crime family, one of New York's "five families," after his father, John "The Dapper Don" Gotti, went to prison in 1992, where he died 10 years later.
Gotti's lawyers said he withdrew from the Mafia upon pleading guilty to separate racketeering charges in 1999. They argued that excerpts they played from a videotape of a 1999 prison conversation between Gotti and his father proved the younger Gotti wanted to leave the mob.
A few months later Gotti pleaded guilty to separate racketeering charges and spent five years in jail. He was indicted on the latest charges just before he was due to be released from prison.
Gotti remained in jail throughout the previous trial but was freed on bail following the last mistrial.
A judge declared a mistrial in the case of alleged Mafia boss John "Junior" Gotti on Friday, the second time in six months jurors were unable to reach a verdict on racketeering and other charges against him.
Prosecutors immediately said they would seek a third trial for Gotti, whose late father was one of New York's most notorious crime bosses. A judge was due to set a date for a third trial on Monday, indicating the charges would not be dropped.
Gotti, whose defense focused on the claim that he had given up mob life, hugged his lawyers upon hearing of the mistrial and left the courthouse surrounded by a gaggle of reporters. "I want to raise my children," he said. "That's all I wanted in life."
Gotti, 42, was accused of leading the Gambino crime family, extorting construction companies, loan-sharking and ordering a brutal attack on Curtis Sliwa, the founder of New York's Guardian Angels anti-crime patrol, because of his critical comments about the Gotti family on his radio show.
A federal judge dismissed the jury because it failed to reach a verdict after deliberating since Wednesday. A previous trial also resulted in a deadlocked jury, forcing the retrial.
The second trial revealed new details of Gotti's love life and accounts of bloody shootings and secret mob codes, as well as rekindling New York's obsession with Mafia trials and Gotti's infamous father.
Prosecutors had accused Gotti of becoming the street boss of the Gambino crime family, one of New York's "five families," after his father, John "The Dapper Don" Gotti, went to prison in 1992, where he died 10 years later.
Gotti's lawyers said he withdrew from the Mafia upon pleading guilty to separate racketeering charges in 1999. They argued that excerpts they played from a videotape of a 1999 prison conversation between Gotti and his father proved the younger Gotti wanted to leave the mob.
A few months later Gotti pleaded guilty to separate racketeering charges and spent five years in jail. He was indicted on the latest charges just before he was due to be released from prison.
Gotti remained in jail throughout the previous trial but was freed on bail following the last mistrial.
Trial Begins of NY Cops Charged as Mafia Hit Men
Friends of ours: Luchese Crime Family, Gambino Crime Family, John Gotti
Friends of mine: Stephen Caracappa, Louis Eppolito
Jury selection began on Monday in the federal trial of two former New York detectives accused of having been hit men for the mob in a case the judge predicts will captivate the jurors.
Defendants Stephen Caracappa, 64, and Louis Eppolito, 57, were charged early last year with secretly working for the Luchese crime family while employed as police officers and involvement in 11 murders or attempted murders.
The charges, which also include kidnapping and other crimes, set the stage for a colorful and closely watched trial. Both defendants had served on the force more than 20 years.
Brooklyn U.S. District Court Judge Jack Weinstein set opening arguments for March 13 and assured hundreds of potential jurors assembled in his courtroom the case "will be one of the most interesting experiences of your life." Twelve jurors and six alternates will be selected.
When Eppolito showed up in court 75 minutes late, Weinstein ordered that he be rearrested and that his $5 million bail be revoked until a good explanation was provided.
Weinstein, an 85-year-old former Columbia Law School professor known for toughness, set Eppolito free again after defense lawyer Bruce Cutler explained that his client had been seriously delayed by a "trailer accident" on the highway.
In the courtroom, the tall and overweight defendant seemed at ease, embracing Cutler and trading smiles and pleasantries with Caracappa and his co-defendant's high-profile lawyer, Edward Hayes.
Cutler, best known for his successful defense of the late Gambino crime family boss John Gotti in several trials, said it will be tougher to defend Eppolito because federal prosecutors plan to have at least four Mafia informants and turncoats testify against him. "The federal government is making sweetheart deals with all kinds of people -- including (crime family) acting bosses -- that will say what the government wants to hear," Cutler said in a telephone interview.
After retiring, Eppolito played a bit role as "Fat Andy" in the mob movie "Goodfellas" and played character roles in several other Hollywood productions.
Thanks to Ransdell Pierson
Friends of mine: Stephen Caracappa, Louis Eppolito
Jury selection began on Monday in the federal trial of two former New York detectives accused of having been hit men for the mob in a case the judge predicts will captivate the jurors.
Defendants Stephen Caracappa, 64, and Louis Eppolito, 57, were charged early last year with secretly working for the Luchese crime family while employed as police officers and involvement in 11 murders or attempted murders.
The charges, which also include kidnapping and other crimes, set the stage for a colorful and closely watched trial. Both defendants had served on the force more than 20 years.
Brooklyn U.S. District Court Judge Jack Weinstein set opening arguments for March 13 and assured hundreds of potential jurors assembled in his courtroom the case "will be one of the most interesting experiences of your life." Twelve jurors and six alternates will be selected.
When Eppolito showed up in court 75 minutes late, Weinstein ordered that he be rearrested and that his $5 million bail be revoked until a good explanation was provided.
Weinstein, an 85-year-old former Columbia Law School professor known for toughness, set Eppolito free again after defense lawyer Bruce Cutler explained that his client had been seriously delayed by a "trailer accident" on the highway.
In the courtroom, the tall and overweight defendant seemed at ease, embracing Cutler and trading smiles and pleasantries with Caracappa and his co-defendant's high-profile lawyer, Edward Hayes.
Cutler, best known for his successful defense of the late Gambino crime family boss John Gotti in several trials, said it will be tougher to defend Eppolito because federal prosecutors plan to have at least four Mafia informants and turncoats testify against him. "The federal government is making sweetheart deals with all kinds of people -- including (crime family) acting bosses -- that will say what the government wants to hear," Cutler said in a telephone interview.
After retiring, Eppolito played a bit role as "Fat Andy" in the mob movie "Goodfellas" and played character roles in several other Hollywood productions.
Thanks to Ransdell Pierson
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Long Before the Mafia, There Was the Irish Mob - PADDY WHACKED on The History Channel
Once called the "National Scourge," "The Shame of the Cities" and "The White Man's Burden," the Irish Mob rose from hellish beginnings to establish itself as the first crime syndicate in the United States. From "Old Smoke" Morrissey to "Whitey" Bulger, a parade of characters used ruthlessness, guile, and the diabolical power trio of "Gangster, Politician, and Lawman" to rise to power in the underworld. Their 150-year legacy of corruption is chronicled in the new special from The History Channel, PADDY WHACKED, a world premiere Friday, March 17 at 8 pm ET/PT on The History Channel.
After the devastating mid 19th century potato famine killed nearly a third of Ireland's population, the Irish looked across the ocean to America for salvation and opportunity. They arrived in New York City in droves, starving, destitute, determined ... and loathed by native New Yorkers. Gang wars soon enveloped the streets, and from the chaos rose the first mob boss, James "Old Smoke" Morrissey, as proprietor of gambling joints, saloons, and whore houses who aligned himself with the corrupt power corridors of Tammany Hall and Boss Tweed. Soon, the Irish carried the dubious distinction of dominating the lower rungs of the immigrant ladder. For the next century-and-a-half, they rose and found power and glory in New York, Chicago, Boston, and Hollywood, before being done in by Italian foes, infighting, and eventually the law. PADDY WHACKED is the story of a long rise to power and a violent and bloody collapse, with a steady drumbeat of unforgettable characters along the way.
Highlights of PADDY WHACKED include:
* Re-creations of the early New York City gang wars made famous in
Martin Scorsese's film Gangs of New York.
* "King" Mike McDonald's efforts to establish the Irish Mob in Chicago,
under the philosophy of "There's a sucker born every minute" and
"Never steal anything big, the small stuff is safer," and the
portrayal of the mobster as "the man behind the man."
* The rise of bootlegging as a primary source of income for the Irish
Mob during Prohibition, an effort led by Dean O'Banion in Chicago and
Owney Madden in New York.
* The first glorification of the Irish mobster in Hollywood films
starring James Cagney.
* The arrival of ruthless foes like Al Capone, Lucky Luciano, and Meyer
Lansky, who wipe out Irish bosses by the dozen as the mafia rises to
power, while government foes such as FDR and Thomas E. Dewey doggedly
struggle to end corruption in the United States.
* The legitimization of the Irish in the upper levels of American
society crests in the 1950s and 1960s as Irish gangsters begin to take
over legitimate businesses. The son of upper-crust Irishman Joseph
Kennedy, John F. Kennedy, is elected President of the United States
after a multitude of back-channel dealing seals his Democratic Party
nomination.
* The JFK assassination signals the beginning of a murderous era of
bloodshed that leads to Wild West-style shootouts in Boston between
the Mullin Gang, the Winter Hill Gang, and the Charlestown Boys.
* James "Whitey" Bulger's rise as the last great Irish Boss is fueled by
protection from his state-senator brother and his best friend in the
FBI ... a shining example of the "Gangster, Politician, Lawman"
triumvirate that was so hard to crack. But even the untouchable Bulger
can't hide from the government's most powerful weapon, RICO.
Executive Producer for The History Channel is Carl H. Lindahl. PADDY WHACKED is produced for The History Channel by Joe Bink Films Inc.
After the devastating mid 19th century potato famine killed nearly a third of Ireland's population, the Irish looked across the ocean to America for salvation and opportunity. They arrived in New York City in droves, starving, destitute, determined ... and loathed by native New Yorkers. Gang wars soon enveloped the streets, and from the chaos rose the first mob boss, James "Old Smoke" Morrissey, as proprietor of gambling joints, saloons, and whore houses who aligned himself with the corrupt power corridors of Tammany Hall and Boss Tweed. Soon, the Irish carried the dubious distinction of dominating the lower rungs of the immigrant ladder. For the next century-and-a-half, they rose and found power and glory in New York, Chicago, Boston, and Hollywood, before being done in by Italian foes, infighting, and eventually the law. PADDY WHACKED is the story of a long rise to power and a violent and bloody collapse, with a steady drumbeat of unforgettable characters along the way.
Highlights of PADDY WHACKED include:
* Re-creations of the early New York City gang wars made famous in
Martin Scorsese's film Gangs of New York.
* "King" Mike McDonald's efforts to establish the Irish Mob in Chicago,
under the philosophy of "There's a sucker born every minute" and
"Never steal anything big, the small stuff is safer," and the
portrayal of the mobster as "the man behind the man."
* The rise of bootlegging as a primary source of income for the Irish
Mob during Prohibition, an effort led by Dean O'Banion in Chicago and
Owney Madden in New York.
* The first glorification of the Irish mobster in Hollywood films
starring James Cagney.
* The arrival of ruthless foes like Al Capone, Lucky Luciano, and Meyer
Lansky, who wipe out Irish bosses by the dozen as the mafia rises to
power, while government foes such as FDR and Thomas E. Dewey doggedly
struggle to end corruption in the United States.
* The legitimization of the Irish in the upper levels of American
society crests in the 1950s and 1960s as Irish gangsters begin to take
over legitimate businesses. The son of upper-crust Irishman Joseph
Kennedy, John F. Kennedy, is elected President of the United States
after a multitude of back-channel dealing seals his Democratic Party
nomination.
* The JFK assassination signals the beginning of a murderous era of
bloodshed that leads to Wild West-style shootouts in Boston between
the Mullin Gang, the Winter Hill Gang, and the Charlestown Boys.
* James "Whitey" Bulger's rise as the last great Irish Boss is fueled by
protection from his state-senator brother and his best friend in the
FBI ... a shining example of the "Gangster, Politician, Lawman"
triumvirate that was so hard to crack. But even the untouchable Bulger
can't hide from the government's most powerful weapon, RICO.
Executive Producer for The History Channel is Carl H. Lindahl. PADDY WHACKED is produced for The History Channel by Joe Bink Films Inc.
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