Total Film magazine, which compiled the list, said: "Goodfellas has it all - story, dialogue, performances, technique. It is slick, arguably the slickest film ever made. But it is also considered, layered and freighted with meaning."
The Godfather: Part II, another film that has topped countless movie polls, is fifth.
The Scotsman's film critic, Alistair Harkness, hailed Goodfellas as a "perfect combination of material, director and story". He said: "It is so visceral and exciting. It's a modern classic and that's why people love it so much. It tends to be at the top of most people's lists of modern movies anyway, so I'm not surprised.
However, he picked Fight Club as his personal favourite in a list that is destined to reopen a thousand bar-room debates. "It summed up a moment in time, that pre-millennium era, in a similar way as The Graduate did in the Sixties," he said.
Nicola Hay, the programmer of the Edinburgh Film Guild, the UK's oldest film society, said she was disappointed in the overall selection. "While no-one can begrudge Scorsese the accolades his career so richly deserves, looking at this list, it is disappointing to note the overabundance of modern American product and the dearth of British film and world cinema," she said. "As to whether Goodfellas is the best film ever made, I personally don't think so. Some of the others in the top ten definitely aren't that fantastic, such as The Empire Strikes Back and The Lord of the Rings trilogy."
Goodfellas stars Ray Liotta, Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci, who won an Oscar for his portrayal of the terrifying character Tommy DeVito.
The story revolves around a real-life gangster, Henry Hill, who "ratted out" his Mafia buddies in 1980 and has lurked in the federal witness protection programme ever since. Despite this, Hill has appeared on US television and radio shows and even written the best-selling Wiseguy Cookbook, featuring his favourite Italian recipes.
Friday, July 10, 2015
Goodfellas Named Top Film
As reported by the Scotsman, Total Film Magazine has named Goodfellas as its top film . Some excerpts from the article:
Unbridled Rage: A True Story of Organized Crime, Corruption, and Murder in Chicago
Unbridled Rage: A True Story of Organized Crime, Corruption, and Murder in ChicagoA true story of organized crime, corruption, and murder in Chicago.
The brutal 40-year-old murders of three Chicago boys were never solved, until two "cold case" agents decided to launch their own investigation. From eyewitness accounts, old police reports, and new information they delved deep into the Chicago Horse Syndicate, an underworld of violence, greed, and sex that produced--and protected--a brutal killer.
Is Gun Control a Civil Right? Antigun Radical Michael Pfleger's Launches Latest Publicity Stunt Circus
The NRA has seen a lot of strange legal theories asserted by gun control advocates over the years, but a lawsuit filed on Tuesday by a group of Chicagoans still managed to distinguish itself in this dubious tradition by asserting that the plaintiffs have a "civil right" to specific forms of gun control.
The basis of the lawsuit is a May 27, 2014 “study” published by the City of Chicago entitled, “Tracing the Guns: The Impact of Illegal Guns on Violence in Chicago.” The report finds that a disproportionate number of guns recovered from crime scenes in Chicago from 2009 to 2013 originated at gun shops in the three suburban villages being sued. Of course, it’s hardly surprisingly that most Chicago crime guns originated outside the city, as sales of firearms within the city itself (as well as mere possession of handguns) were unconstitutionally banned for much of the reporting period covered by the study.
The complaint in Coalition for Safe Chicago Communities v. Village of Riverdale alleges that the Illinois Civil Rights Act prohibits local units of government from using “criteria or methods of administration” that have “the effect of subjecting individuals to discrimination because of that person’s race.” The plaintiffs go on to insist that the three Chicago suburbs being sued have violated this provision of law by failing to enact policies for gun dealers that the plaintiffs claim would prevent dangerous guns from reaching criminal hands. This, the plaintiffs argue, has “a disparate and terrible impact on African Americans who live in neighborhoods afflicted by such illegal gun use ….” The plaintiffs also claim that illegal gun use in their neighborhoods leads others in African American neighborhoods “to seek and obtain guns,” including by legal means, which they argue leads to “a high level of disorder and violent crime” that makes their neighborhoods a less desirable place to live.
The plaintiffs request the court to order defendants “to put in place by ordinance or regulation the kind of measures or methods of administration … set forth in the City of Chicago’s own municipal code to replace or supersede the current lax methods of administration or licensing of dealers ….”
It’s a remarkable theory, to say the least, that residents of city have a “civil right” to force other localities to adopt their city’s version of gun control. Even putting aside the broad preemption provisions of Illinois’ Firearm Concealed Carry Act of 2013, which reserve most regulation of firearms to the state, the job of courts when ruling on legislation is limited to determining whether or not it a given activity is constitutionally permissible. It’s not to cherry pick policies from one jurisdiction and force them upon another.
No surprise, the plaintiffs in the suit include antigun radical Michael Pfleger, who cloaks his political activism in the mantel of the Catholic priesthood. Known for highly dramatic publicity stunts, Pfleger infamously threatened to “snuff out” a gun store owner during a public protest in front of his shop. Equally unsurprising, Barack Obama himself once cited the Chicago cleric as among his closest “spiritual advisors.”
Whether or not Pfleger’s latest antics get any traction with the court is likely beside the point. The suit is already being widely covered by the media, which provides yet another opportunity for incessant pontification and holier-than-thou finger-pointing by Chicago’s antigun establishment. Hopefully the court will make quick work of this latest antigun abuse of the legal system, but Chicago’s well-funded antigun circus will no doubt continue.
The basis of the lawsuit is a May 27, 2014 “study” published by the City of Chicago entitled, “Tracing the Guns: The Impact of Illegal Guns on Violence in Chicago.” The report finds that a disproportionate number of guns recovered from crime scenes in Chicago from 2009 to 2013 originated at gun shops in the three suburban villages being sued. Of course, it’s hardly surprisingly that most Chicago crime guns originated outside the city, as sales of firearms within the city itself (as well as mere possession of handguns) were unconstitutionally banned for much of the reporting period covered by the study.
The complaint in Coalition for Safe Chicago Communities v. Village of Riverdale alleges that the Illinois Civil Rights Act prohibits local units of government from using “criteria or methods of administration” that have “the effect of subjecting individuals to discrimination because of that person’s race.” The plaintiffs go on to insist that the three Chicago suburbs being sued have violated this provision of law by failing to enact policies for gun dealers that the plaintiffs claim would prevent dangerous guns from reaching criminal hands. This, the plaintiffs argue, has “a disparate and terrible impact on African Americans who live in neighborhoods afflicted by such illegal gun use ….” The plaintiffs also claim that illegal gun use in their neighborhoods leads others in African American neighborhoods “to seek and obtain guns,” including by legal means, which they argue leads to “a high level of disorder and violent crime” that makes their neighborhoods a less desirable place to live.
The plaintiffs request the court to order defendants “to put in place by ordinance or regulation the kind of measures or methods of administration … set forth in the City of Chicago’s own municipal code to replace or supersede the current lax methods of administration or licensing of dealers ….”
It’s a remarkable theory, to say the least, that residents of city have a “civil right” to force other localities to adopt their city’s version of gun control. Even putting aside the broad preemption provisions of Illinois’ Firearm Concealed Carry Act of 2013, which reserve most regulation of firearms to the state, the job of courts when ruling on legislation is limited to determining whether or not it a given activity is constitutionally permissible. It’s not to cherry pick policies from one jurisdiction and force them upon another.
No surprise, the plaintiffs in the suit include antigun radical Michael Pfleger, who cloaks his political activism in the mantel of the Catholic priesthood. Known for highly dramatic publicity stunts, Pfleger infamously threatened to “snuff out” a gun store owner during a public protest in front of his shop. Equally unsurprising, Barack Obama himself once cited the Chicago cleric as among his closest “spiritual advisors.”
Whether or not Pfleger’s latest antics get any traction with the court is likely beside the point. The suit is already being widely covered by the media, which provides yet another opportunity for incessant pontification and holier-than-thou finger-pointing by Chicago’s antigun establishment. Hopefully the court will make quick work of this latest antigun abuse of the legal system, but Chicago’s well-funded antigun circus will no doubt continue.
Diverse Chicagoans Exercise Their Right-to-Carry
A recent report by the Chicago Sun-Times reveals the diversity of the Chicagoans choosing to exercise their Right-to-Carry, offering some rare good news regarding the city’s beleaguered gun owners. According to a Sun-Times analysis of Right-to-Carry permit data obtained from the Illinois State Police, the city zip codes with the most permit-holding residents span from “upper middle-class, safe and predominately white neighborhoods” to “high-crime, minority neighborhoods.” Delving into further detail, the article states “Chicago’s highest concentration of permits is in the 60617 ZIP… According to the census, about 55 percent of the residents in 60617 are black, 34 percent are Hispanic and 7 percent white.”
The piece goes on to note that the Auburn Gresham, Avalon Park and Chatham neighborhoods also rank high in their number of permit holders. These areas are described as “minority neighborhoods that have been plagued by gun violence.”
The abundance of Right-to-Carry permit holders in high-crime and predominantly minority communities helps to break down pernicious stereotypes about the “typical” gun owner and permit holder. The data also proves that the protection offered by exercising the Right-to-Carry is being used by those most vulnerable to violent crime.
Under the rule of anti-gun Clinton and Obama staffer Rahm Emanuel, Chicagoans have been forced to cope with severe, and frequently-debated, levels of violent crime that the authorities often appear helpless to contain. In this climate of rampant crime, even the mayor’s son was the victim of a robbery only a short distance from the family home. Taking a brief respite from his usual spin on public safety, in January, the notoriously combative mayor conceded that city residents don’t feel safe, noting “Too many families, too many parents do not let their kids go outside because they're scared.” This feeling was likely further cemented following the July 4th holiday weekend, during which 55 were wounded by illegal gunfire and 10 killed. In this environment, permit-holding Windy City residents are wise to provide for their own self-defense. Hopefully, the breadth and diversity of permit-holding Chicagoans revealed by the Sun-Times will encourage more residents to follow their lead and get the tools of protection to the communities where they are most needed.
The piece goes on to note that the Auburn Gresham, Avalon Park and Chatham neighborhoods also rank high in their number of permit holders. These areas are described as “minority neighborhoods that have been plagued by gun violence.”
The abundance of Right-to-Carry permit holders in high-crime and predominantly minority communities helps to break down pernicious stereotypes about the “typical” gun owner and permit holder. The data also proves that the protection offered by exercising the Right-to-Carry is being used by those most vulnerable to violent crime.
Under the rule of anti-gun Clinton and Obama staffer Rahm Emanuel, Chicagoans have been forced to cope with severe, and frequently-debated, levels of violent crime that the authorities often appear helpless to contain. In this climate of rampant crime, even the mayor’s son was the victim of a robbery only a short distance from the family home. Taking a brief respite from his usual spin on public safety, in January, the notoriously combative mayor conceded that city residents don’t feel safe, noting “Too many families, too many parents do not let their kids go outside because they're scared.” This feeling was likely further cemented following the July 4th holiday weekend, during which 55 were wounded by illegal gunfire and 10 killed. In this environment, permit-holding Windy City residents are wise to provide for their own self-defense. Hopefully, the breadth and diversity of permit-holding Chicagoans revealed by the Sun-Times will encourage more residents to follow their lead and get the tools of protection to the communities where they are most needed.
Thursday, July 09, 2015
Don't You Just Love Attorneys?
A Mafia Godfather finds out that his bookkeeper has screwed him for ten million bucks. This bookkeeper is deaf. It was considered an occupational benefit, and why he got the job in the first place, since it was assumed that a deaf bookkeeper would not be able to hear anything he'd ever have to testify about in court.
When the Godfather goes to shakedown the bookkeeper about his missing $10 million bucks
, he brings along his attorney, who knows sign language.
The Godfather asks the bookkeeper: "Where is the 10 million bucks you embezzled from me?"
The attorney, using sign language, asks the bookkeeper where the 10 million dollar is hidden.
The bookkeeper signs back: "I don't know what you are talking about."
The attorney tells the Godfather: "He says he doesn't know what you're talking about."
That's when the Godfather pulls out a 9 mm pistol, puts it to the bookkeeper's temple, cocks it, and says: "Ask him again!"
The attorney signs to the underling: "He'll kill you for sure if you don't tell him!"
The bookkeeper signs back: "OK! You win! The money is in a brown briefcase, buried behind the shed in my cousin Enzo's backyard in Queens!"
The Godfather asks the attorney: "Well, what'd he say?"
The attorney replies: "He says you don't have the balls to pull the trigger.
When the Godfather goes to shakedown the bookkeeper about his missing $10 million bucks
, he brings along his attorney, who knows sign language.The Godfather asks the bookkeeper: "Where is the 10 million bucks you embezzled from me?"
The attorney, using sign language, asks the bookkeeper where the 10 million dollar is hidden.
The bookkeeper signs back: "I don't know what you are talking about."
The attorney tells the Godfather: "He says he doesn't know what you're talking about."
That's when the Godfather pulls out a 9 mm pistol, puts it to the bookkeeper's temple, cocks it, and says: "Ask him again!"
The attorney signs to the underling: "He'll kill you for sure if you don't tell him!"
The bookkeeper signs back: "OK! You win! The money is in a brown briefcase, buried behind the shed in my cousin Enzo's backyard in Queens!"
The Godfather asks the attorney: "Well, what'd he say?"
The attorney replies: "He says you don't have the balls to pull the trigger.
The Fall of John Dillinger and the Rise of the FBI
The movie playing at the Biograph Theater on this hot
, muggy summer night was Manhattan Melodrama, starring Clark Gable as the ruthless gangster Blackie Gallagher. But it was the real-life drama starring notorious outlaw John Dillinger that was playing out on the streets of Chicago on this particular Sunday evening that would ultimately captivate the nation and forever transform the FBI.
On July 22, 1934, a nervous Melvin Purvis, Special Agent in Charge of the Bureau's office in Chicago, stood near the Biograph box office. He'd seen Dillinger walk into the crowded theater about two hours earlier with two women, including one in an orange skirt (often called a "red dress") who had tipped off authorities that the wanted criminal would be there. Now, Purvis was waiting for Dillinger to re-emerge.
Suddenly, Purvis saw him. Purvis took out a match and lit his cigar. It was a pre-arranged signal to the Bureau agents and local police officers taking part in the operation, but in the thick crowd less than half a dozen of the men saw it.
In the past year, many such opportunities to catch the wanted outlaw and other gangsters had gone up in smoke. The Bureau had learned many lessons, often the hard way, in the process. Three months earlier, a special agent had been gunned down following a hastily planned raid on a Dillinger gang hideout in Wisconsin. And 13 months earlier, the Bureau had lost an agent and three law enforcement partners at the hands of "Pretty Boy" Floyd and others in the infamous "Kansas City Massacre." But on this night, the Bureau was prepared. The arrangement of agents, the setting of the signal, and the careful preparation were evidence that the Bureau was learning how to catch the most violent criminals. The plan was not perfect, but it was sound, with agents covering all theater exits and directions Dillinger might take.
As Dillinger walked down the street, agents fell in behind him and closed in. Dillinger sensed something was wrong, and as Agent Charles Winstead would later describe, the gangster "whirled around and reached for his right front pocket [where he had a .380 Colt automatic pistol]. He started running sideways toward the alley."
Agents fired. Dillinger fell, mumbled a few words, and died.
The successful conclusion to the Dillinger manhunt was the beginning of the end of the gangster era and a cornerstone in the evolution of the Bureau. With new powers, new skills, and within a year, a new name--the Federal Bureau of Investigation--it was well on its way to becoming a premier law enforcement agency respected around the globe.
Thanks to the FBI
, muggy summer night was Manhattan Melodrama, starring Clark Gable as the ruthless gangster Blackie Gallagher. But it was the real-life drama starring notorious outlaw John Dillinger that was playing out on the streets of Chicago on this particular Sunday evening that would ultimately captivate the nation and forever transform the FBI.On July 22, 1934, a nervous Melvin Purvis, Special Agent in Charge of the Bureau's office in Chicago, stood near the Biograph box office. He'd seen Dillinger walk into the crowded theater about two hours earlier with two women, including one in an orange skirt (often called a "red dress") who had tipped off authorities that the wanted criminal would be there. Now, Purvis was waiting for Dillinger to re-emerge.
Suddenly, Purvis saw him. Purvis took out a match and lit his cigar. It was a pre-arranged signal to the Bureau agents and local police officers taking part in the operation, but in the thick crowd less than half a dozen of the men saw it.
In the past year, many such opportunities to catch the wanted outlaw and other gangsters had gone up in smoke. The Bureau had learned many lessons, often the hard way, in the process. Three months earlier, a special agent had been gunned down following a hastily planned raid on a Dillinger gang hideout in Wisconsin. And 13 months earlier, the Bureau had lost an agent and three law enforcement partners at the hands of "Pretty Boy" Floyd and others in the infamous "Kansas City Massacre." But on this night, the Bureau was prepared. The arrangement of agents, the setting of the signal, and the careful preparation were evidence that the Bureau was learning how to catch the most violent criminals. The plan was not perfect, but it was sound, with agents covering all theater exits and directions Dillinger might take.
As Dillinger walked down the street, agents fell in behind him and closed in. Dillinger sensed something was wrong, and as Agent Charles Winstead would later describe, the gangster "whirled around and reached for his right front pocket [where he had a .380 Colt automatic pistol]. He started running sideways toward the alley."
Agents fired. Dillinger fell, mumbled a few words, and died.
The successful conclusion to the Dillinger manhunt was the beginning of the end of the gangster era and a cornerstone in the evolution of the Bureau. With new powers, new skills, and within a year, a new name--the Federal Bureau of Investigation--it was well on its way to becoming a premier law enforcement agency respected around the globe.
Thanks to the FBI
Bringing Down the Mob: The War Against the American Mafia
Longtime business associates Allen Dorfman and Irwin Weiner frequently lunched together. On a day in January 1983, they emerged from Dorfman's Cadillac onto the icy parking lot of a suburban Chicago restaurant, ten minutes late for their one o'clock reservation. According to Weiner, they were walking between parked cars when two men ran up behind them and yelled, "This is a robbery." One of the men fired a .22 automatic at least half a dozen times. Only Dorfman was hit. He fell to the ground in a large pool of blood that quickly froze into red ice. When the paramedics arrived, he showed no signs of life.
At fifty-nine
, Dorfman was a nationally known figure, and his death would be reported across the country. His murder was news, but it was not a surprise. He had been a key figure in the world of organized crime for more than thirty years. Beginning with Jimmy Hoffa, successive presidents of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters (IBT) had allowed him to use his position as head of the pension fund to provide sweetheart loans to mob figures, money that bankrolled the Mafia's control of several Las Vegas casinos. The union itself, which had access to top business leaders and politicians right up to the White House, was run as a virtual subsidiary of the American Mafia. A month before his murder, Dorfman, Teamsters president Roy Williams, and a top Chicago mob figure, Joe Lombardo, had been convicted of attempting to bribe U.S. senator Howard Cannon of Nevada. After his conviction in December 1982, Dorfman was released on $5 million bail pending sentencing. He stood to receive as much as fifty-five years in prison.
In addition to the bribery case, the government was also conducting an investigation of money skimming in mob-backed Vegas casinos. Dorfman knew the secrets of both the Teamsters and Vegas. If he decided to cut a deal with prosecutors, talking in return for a more lenient sentence, many gangsters-and supposedly legitimate businessmen and officials-would end up in prison. The head of the Chicago Crime Commission told The New York Times, "There's no doubt in my mind that Mr. Dorfman was killed to keep him quiet ... if he ever coughed up to investigators ... this country would be shaking for a month." Someone with access to the crime scene apparently decided to ensure that at least some of Dorfman's secrets did not die with him. He made a photocopy of the dead man's memo book and sent it to the Chicago Crime Commission.
Though he was only an associate member, Allen Dorfman's life provided a window into the world of the American Mafia at its highest levels. Beginning in 1949, it took him just five years to rise from physical education instructor to millionaire, thanks to Hoffa's largess and the connections of his racketeer stepfather, "Red" Dorfman. At the time of his death he headed a financial empire that included insurance companies, condominium developments, resorts, and other projects, and he maintained homes in four states. He was a major contributor to various charities and was frequently honored by civic associations. Yet over his career he had been denounced by congressional committees and constantly pursued by federal law enforcement officers. He was indicted on several occasions, though he usually managed to win acquittals. In 1972 he was convicted of conspiring to facilitate a loan from the Teamsters Pension Fund in return for a kickback of $55,000, but he served only nine months in jail.
After his latest conviction, Dorfman should have been wary of his former associates. He might have known that the bosses of the Chicago mob would be worried that a man long accustomed to the affluent life might not be able to face spending the rest of his days in prison. True, Dorfman had not rolled over following any of his previous arrests. But in the Mafia world that was irrelevant. Chicago mob bosses Joey Aiuppa and Jackie Cerone, who were also caught up in the Vegas skim, had followed very different paths from Dorfman's. Their rise to the top had been slow, prefaced by years spent doing the dirty work with guns and blackjacks. Unlike Dorfman, they could not pose as businessmen and civic benefactors. Instead, they lived by a hard code that mandated that all doubts must be resolved in favor of the organization. They could not take the chance that someone who had so much potential to hurt them would stay silent. Since it was standard mob procedure to eliminate witnesses, Weiner's survival and his tale of attempted robbery caused some investigators to speculate that he had set Dorfman up.
The fact that Dorfman was not Italian had prevented him from becoming a "made" member of the Mafia. Still, he was well aware of its rules, though perhaps he did not think they applied to a big shot like him. The same lack of understanding had undoubtedly cost his old boss Jimmy Hoffa his life eight years earlier. Then again, a lot of people on both sides of the law had always found it hard to comprehend the culture of the American Mafia.
Books about mob life often end up on the true-crime shelves of bookstores, alongside biographies of serial killers and accounts of last year's "heist of the century." In some respects it is the appropriate place for the colorful criminals of the American Mafia. Each generation has brought forth an Al Capone, Lucky Luciano, Frank Costello, Sam Giancana, or John Gotti, all of whom have fascinated the public, as have their big and small screen counterparts: Scarface, The Godfather, and The Sopranos.
Yet the American Mafia is more than just another group of criminals. Since the 1920s it has been the heart and soul of American organized crime. As such it has exercised significant influence on the political and economic life of the country. In American Mafia: A History of Its Rise to Power, I told the story of the organization up to the early 1950s. I described how the Mafia managed to acquire all the trappings of an independent state, flouting the authority of the United States government. It promulgated its own laws, not infrequently imposing the death penalty; it even maintained diplomatic relations with foreign countries, such as Cuba. And perhaps most critically, in both politics and business it managed to link the underworld to the upper world. That an organization that never had more than five thousand full-fledged members could exercise such immense power is one of the most phenomenal accomplishments in the history of the United States. It was not, however, a lasting achievement. The present work, an account of events from the 1950s into the twenty-first century, is the story of a declining power. Essentially it is a domestic military history, in that it describes the fifty-year war that law enforcement has waged on the American Mafia.
Words like "organized crime" or "Mafia" lack precision. Attorney General Robert Kennedy, who crusaded against the organization, told his subordinates, "Don't define it, do something about it." Over the years, "Mafia" has come to be used as a shorthand for the leading element of American organized crime. Like "Hollywood" as a synonym for the movie industry, or "Wall Street" for high finance, it has become so embedded in the national consciousness that it is impossible to avoid using it. Attempts by official bodies to define the Mafia often fell short, or were misleading. In 1950-51 a U.S. Senate committee chaired by Estes Kefauver of Tennessee exposed the face of organized crime in a score of American cities. In its final report the committee declared that a Mafia, descended from the Sicilian original, controlled the most lucrative rackets in many major cities and tied together criminal groups throughout the country. A 1967 presidential commission described organized crime as "underworld groups that are sufficiently sophisticated that they regularly employ techniques of violence and corruption to achieve their other criminal ends." They explained that the core group of organized crime in the United States consist[s] of 24 groups operating as criminal cartels in large cities across the nation. Their membership is exclusively Italian, they are in frequent communication with each other, and their smooth functioning is insured by a national body of overseers.
In fact the Mafia in the United States was not an offshoot of the Sicilian version. While only men of Italian lineage could be "made" full-fledged members, the organization was not entirely Italian. Nor was the national "commission," as its body of top overseers was called, ever as clearly defined or powerful as it was sometimes portrayed.
In the nineteenth century, some people blamed the newly immigrated Italians for the prevalence of vice and crime in urban areas. But organized crime was well established in the New World long before Italian Americans arrived. Gamblers, saloon keepers, brothel madams, and other criminals paid off the police, who in turn funneled a large share of the take to their political masters. A few immigrants who came to the United States had been members of Old World criminal bands, such as the Neapolitan Camorra and Sicilian Mafia. It is clear, though, that the Italians who would turn to crime in this country (a tiny fraction of the whole) simply took advantage of what they found when they arrived. Even after Mussolini's crackdown on the Mafia in the 1920s propelled some genuine Sicilian mafiosi to the United States, the forms of organized crime they adopted were essentially American.
The Mafia in America produced bosses like Calabrians Frank Costello and Albert Anastasia, as well as Neapolitans Al Capone and Vito Genovese. For practical purposes it also included Jews such as Meyer Lansky and Benjamin "Bugsy" Siegel of New York, Abner "Longy" Zwillman of Newark, and Morris "Moe" Dalitz of Cleveland, and these men often exercised power equivalent to that of the Italian bosses. Lansky (nÈ Maier Suchowljansky) was generally ranked among the top three or four mobsters in the country. His success was the result of his financial skills and his ability to forge alliances with key leaders such as Lucky Luciano and Frank Costello. For similar reasons, Moe Dalitz would become a major figure in Ohio, Kentucky, and Nevada. Irish Owney Madden, though confined to the resort town of Hot Springs, Arkansas, after his exile from New York City, managed to reinvent himself as an elder statesman of the American Mafia. Welshman Murray "the Camel" Humphreys (nÈ Humpreys) was always near the top of the Chicago mob hierarchy, as were Jake Guzik and Gus Alex, who were Jewish and Greek, respectively. To emphasize the organization's American origins and its frequently multiethnic makeup, I refer to it as "the American Mafia," though to avoid constant repetition of the term, I will usually refer to it simply as "the Mafia," sometimes only "the mob(s)," or in individual cities by its local equivalent, such as "the Chicago Outfit" or the name of a particular New York family.
One clear indicator that the American Mafia was homegrown was its organizational structure. The American gangs replicated the political machines in the areas where they operated. Chicago, for example, was dominated by the Democratic county organization, though certain ward bosses were given considerable latitude. The Chicago mob controlled the metropolitan area but allowed some of its leading figures to operate with a high degree of autonomy. New York was too large to be ruled by one political organization. Tammany controlled Manhattan, but Brooklyn, the Bronx, and Queens had their own machines. The New York Mafia's five-family structure dispersed mob power similarly across the five boroughs. In Tammany days, a "commission" made up of a powerful politician from Manhattan, another from Brooklyn, a boss gambler, and a representative of the NYPD regulated organized crime. After 1931, a local Mafia commission composed of the heads of the five families performed the same function. At the same time, a national "syndicate" also developed, directed by a commission that included the New York families and representatives from other cities. The national commission reflected prevailing political practices as well. The Republican and Democratic national committees were dominated by big states, such as New York, Illinois, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Michigan. In the national syndicate, the New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, Cleveland, and Detroit mobs called the shots (sometimes literally).
The internal arrangements of the families (borgattas or simply gangs) also resembled that of the political machines. The Tammany and Cook County party chairmen and the Mafia family heads were all called "boss." Both Tammany and the Chicago organization often had number two men; in the Mafia they were called underbosses. Tammany had leaders over every assembly district, while Chicago had a party committeeman in charge of each ward, and the Mafia had its middle managers too. In the post-Apalachin period, law enforcement began referring to mob sub-bosses by terms such as "capo" (head). While neat on paper, it did not always conform to local practice. In Chicago, instead of being called capos, sub-leaders were usually referred to by the territory they controlled: boss of the Loop, the Near North Side, the Far South Side, etc. In other places they might be known as captains or crew chiefs. The Tammany wise men were called sachems; the Mafia families' equivalent was consigliere, or counselor, though the job began as a sort of ombudsman to whom aggrieved gang members could appeal. Since "Tammany" was an Indian name, its rank and file were accordingly known as braves. On law enforcement charts, the lowest ranked members of the Mafia were called soldiers, a term that might also encompass crew members who were not "made." While it is sometimes claimed that any Italian made man outranked any non-Italian, this was not the case. A mob soldier, even a crew chief, had to be very respectful around "Bugsy" Siegel or "Shotgun" Alex, men whose nicknames alone indicated their temperament and propensities.
Even the boss title could sometimes be misleading. Some who bore it were no more than titular leaders. Gaetano Gagliano was formally boss of what became the Lucchese family from 1931 until his death in 1951, when he was succeeded by his underboss, Gaetano "Tommy" Lucchese. Yet during the period when Gagliano was supposedly in charge, there was virtually no mention of him, while Lucchese was well known, just as European kings and presidents have often been overshadowed by their prime ministers. Sometimes it was unclear who was actually running a particular Mafia gang. In the 1980s the federal government prosecuted "Fat Tony" Salerno as head of New York's Genovese family even though he was actually the number two man.
The key to the American Mafia's success was its ability to buy or neutralize public officials. Until the 1920s, organizations such as Tammany Hall or Chicago's First Ward had the final say over organized crime. Then Prohibition- rich gangsters turned the tables and began to act as the partners or, in some instances, controllers of the politicians. As one criminal justice official told historian Arthur Sloane, "The mobsters have always been wedded to the political system. That's how they survive. Without that wedding they would be terrorists and we'd get rid of them." The decline of the Mafia began after the 1950s, when the mobs could not muster the political influence to protect themselves from the law enforcement assault led by the federal government.
In the present work I have adopted a broad approach, as opposed to a more narrow focus on a particular mob family or individual leader. Sometimes police or journalists have labeled gangs such as New York's Gambinos or the Chicago Outfit the premier mob families in America. Such assessments are like rankings of college football teams. The view of one expert is not always shared by another or borne out on the playing field. A similar practice is to designate an individual gangster such as Vito Genovese or Carlo Gambino "Boss of Bosses." For a long time, law enforcement followed the same narrow approach in its war on the Mafia: Go after an individual Mr. Big. The turning point in the war came in the 1980s, when the federal government broadened its targets and took down most of the leadership of all five New York families in one fell swoop.
Thanks to Thomas Reppetto
At fifty-nine
, Dorfman was a nationally known figure, and his death would be reported across the country. His murder was news, but it was not a surprise. He had been a key figure in the world of organized crime for more than thirty years. Beginning with Jimmy Hoffa, successive presidents of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters (IBT) had allowed him to use his position as head of the pension fund to provide sweetheart loans to mob figures, money that bankrolled the Mafia's control of several Las Vegas casinos. The union itself, which had access to top business leaders and politicians right up to the White House, was run as a virtual subsidiary of the American Mafia. A month before his murder, Dorfman, Teamsters president Roy Williams, and a top Chicago mob figure, Joe Lombardo, had been convicted of attempting to bribe U.S. senator Howard Cannon of Nevada. After his conviction in December 1982, Dorfman was released on $5 million bail pending sentencing. He stood to receive as much as fifty-five years in prison.In addition to the bribery case, the government was also conducting an investigation of money skimming in mob-backed Vegas casinos. Dorfman knew the secrets of both the Teamsters and Vegas. If he decided to cut a deal with prosecutors, talking in return for a more lenient sentence, many gangsters-and supposedly legitimate businessmen and officials-would end up in prison. The head of the Chicago Crime Commission told The New York Times, "There's no doubt in my mind that Mr. Dorfman was killed to keep him quiet ... if he ever coughed up to investigators ... this country would be shaking for a month." Someone with access to the crime scene apparently decided to ensure that at least some of Dorfman's secrets did not die with him. He made a photocopy of the dead man's memo book and sent it to the Chicago Crime Commission.
Though he was only an associate member, Allen Dorfman's life provided a window into the world of the American Mafia at its highest levels. Beginning in 1949, it took him just five years to rise from physical education instructor to millionaire, thanks to Hoffa's largess and the connections of his racketeer stepfather, "Red" Dorfman. At the time of his death he headed a financial empire that included insurance companies, condominium developments, resorts, and other projects, and he maintained homes in four states. He was a major contributor to various charities and was frequently honored by civic associations. Yet over his career he had been denounced by congressional committees and constantly pursued by federal law enforcement officers. He was indicted on several occasions, though he usually managed to win acquittals. In 1972 he was convicted of conspiring to facilitate a loan from the Teamsters Pension Fund in return for a kickback of $55,000, but he served only nine months in jail.
After his latest conviction, Dorfman should have been wary of his former associates. He might have known that the bosses of the Chicago mob would be worried that a man long accustomed to the affluent life might not be able to face spending the rest of his days in prison. True, Dorfman had not rolled over following any of his previous arrests. But in the Mafia world that was irrelevant. Chicago mob bosses Joey Aiuppa and Jackie Cerone, who were also caught up in the Vegas skim, had followed very different paths from Dorfman's. Their rise to the top had been slow, prefaced by years spent doing the dirty work with guns and blackjacks. Unlike Dorfman, they could not pose as businessmen and civic benefactors. Instead, they lived by a hard code that mandated that all doubts must be resolved in favor of the organization. They could not take the chance that someone who had so much potential to hurt them would stay silent. Since it was standard mob procedure to eliminate witnesses, Weiner's survival and his tale of attempted robbery caused some investigators to speculate that he had set Dorfman up.
The fact that Dorfman was not Italian had prevented him from becoming a "made" member of the Mafia. Still, he was well aware of its rules, though perhaps he did not think they applied to a big shot like him. The same lack of understanding had undoubtedly cost his old boss Jimmy Hoffa his life eight years earlier. Then again, a lot of people on both sides of the law had always found it hard to comprehend the culture of the American Mafia.
Books about mob life often end up on the true-crime shelves of bookstores, alongside biographies of serial killers and accounts of last year's "heist of the century." In some respects it is the appropriate place for the colorful criminals of the American Mafia. Each generation has brought forth an Al Capone, Lucky Luciano, Frank Costello, Sam Giancana, or John Gotti, all of whom have fascinated the public, as have their big and small screen counterparts: Scarface, The Godfather, and The Sopranos.
Yet the American Mafia is more than just another group of criminals. Since the 1920s it has been the heart and soul of American organized crime. As such it has exercised significant influence on the political and economic life of the country. In American Mafia: A History of Its Rise to Power, I told the story of the organization up to the early 1950s. I described how the Mafia managed to acquire all the trappings of an independent state, flouting the authority of the United States government. It promulgated its own laws, not infrequently imposing the death penalty; it even maintained diplomatic relations with foreign countries, such as Cuba. And perhaps most critically, in both politics and business it managed to link the underworld to the upper world. That an organization that never had more than five thousand full-fledged members could exercise such immense power is one of the most phenomenal accomplishments in the history of the United States. It was not, however, a lasting achievement. The present work, an account of events from the 1950s into the twenty-first century, is the story of a declining power. Essentially it is a domestic military history, in that it describes the fifty-year war that law enforcement has waged on the American Mafia.
Words like "organized crime" or "Mafia" lack precision. Attorney General Robert Kennedy, who crusaded against the organization, told his subordinates, "Don't define it, do something about it." Over the years, "Mafia" has come to be used as a shorthand for the leading element of American organized crime. Like "Hollywood" as a synonym for the movie industry, or "Wall Street" for high finance, it has become so embedded in the national consciousness that it is impossible to avoid using it. Attempts by official bodies to define the Mafia often fell short, or were misleading. In 1950-51 a U.S. Senate committee chaired by Estes Kefauver of Tennessee exposed the face of organized crime in a score of American cities. In its final report the committee declared that a Mafia, descended from the Sicilian original, controlled the most lucrative rackets in many major cities and tied together criminal groups throughout the country. A 1967 presidential commission described organized crime as "underworld groups that are sufficiently sophisticated that they regularly employ techniques of violence and corruption to achieve their other criminal ends." They explained that the core group of organized crime in the United States consist[s] of 24 groups operating as criminal cartels in large cities across the nation. Their membership is exclusively Italian, they are in frequent communication with each other, and their smooth functioning is insured by a national body of overseers.
In fact the Mafia in the United States was not an offshoot of the Sicilian version. While only men of Italian lineage could be "made" full-fledged members, the organization was not entirely Italian. Nor was the national "commission," as its body of top overseers was called, ever as clearly defined or powerful as it was sometimes portrayed.
In the nineteenth century, some people blamed the newly immigrated Italians for the prevalence of vice and crime in urban areas. But organized crime was well established in the New World long before Italian Americans arrived. Gamblers, saloon keepers, brothel madams, and other criminals paid off the police, who in turn funneled a large share of the take to their political masters. A few immigrants who came to the United States had been members of Old World criminal bands, such as the Neapolitan Camorra and Sicilian Mafia. It is clear, though, that the Italians who would turn to crime in this country (a tiny fraction of the whole) simply took advantage of what they found when they arrived. Even after Mussolini's crackdown on the Mafia in the 1920s propelled some genuine Sicilian mafiosi to the United States, the forms of organized crime they adopted were essentially American.
The Mafia in America produced bosses like Calabrians Frank Costello and Albert Anastasia, as well as Neapolitans Al Capone and Vito Genovese. For practical purposes it also included Jews such as Meyer Lansky and Benjamin "Bugsy" Siegel of New York, Abner "Longy" Zwillman of Newark, and Morris "Moe" Dalitz of Cleveland, and these men often exercised power equivalent to that of the Italian bosses. Lansky (nÈ Maier Suchowljansky) was generally ranked among the top three or four mobsters in the country. His success was the result of his financial skills and his ability to forge alliances with key leaders such as Lucky Luciano and Frank Costello. For similar reasons, Moe Dalitz would become a major figure in Ohio, Kentucky, and Nevada. Irish Owney Madden, though confined to the resort town of Hot Springs, Arkansas, after his exile from New York City, managed to reinvent himself as an elder statesman of the American Mafia. Welshman Murray "the Camel" Humphreys (nÈ Humpreys) was always near the top of the Chicago mob hierarchy, as were Jake Guzik and Gus Alex, who were Jewish and Greek, respectively. To emphasize the organization's American origins and its frequently multiethnic makeup, I refer to it as "the American Mafia," though to avoid constant repetition of the term, I will usually refer to it simply as "the Mafia," sometimes only "the mob(s)," or in individual cities by its local equivalent, such as "the Chicago Outfit" or the name of a particular New York family.
One clear indicator that the American Mafia was homegrown was its organizational structure. The American gangs replicated the political machines in the areas where they operated. Chicago, for example, was dominated by the Democratic county organization, though certain ward bosses were given considerable latitude. The Chicago mob controlled the metropolitan area but allowed some of its leading figures to operate with a high degree of autonomy. New York was too large to be ruled by one political organization. Tammany controlled Manhattan, but Brooklyn, the Bronx, and Queens had their own machines. The New York Mafia's five-family structure dispersed mob power similarly across the five boroughs. In Tammany days, a "commission" made up of a powerful politician from Manhattan, another from Brooklyn, a boss gambler, and a representative of the NYPD regulated organized crime. After 1931, a local Mafia commission composed of the heads of the five families performed the same function. At the same time, a national "syndicate" also developed, directed by a commission that included the New York families and representatives from other cities. The national commission reflected prevailing political practices as well. The Republican and Democratic national committees were dominated by big states, such as New York, Illinois, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Michigan. In the national syndicate, the New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, Cleveland, and Detroit mobs called the shots (sometimes literally).
The internal arrangements of the families (borgattas or simply gangs) also resembled that of the political machines. The Tammany and Cook County party chairmen and the Mafia family heads were all called "boss." Both Tammany and the Chicago organization often had number two men; in the Mafia they were called underbosses. Tammany had leaders over every assembly district, while Chicago had a party committeeman in charge of each ward, and the Mafia had its middle managers too. In the post-Apalachin period, law enforcement began referring to mob sub-bosses by terms such as "capo" (head). While neat on paper, it did not always conform to local practice. In Chicago, instead of being called capos, sub-leaders were usually referred to by the territory they controlled: boss of the Loop, the Near North Side, the Far South Side, etc. In other places they might be known as captains or crew chiefs. The Tammany wise men were called sachems; the Mafia families' equivalent was consigliere, or counselor, though the job began as a sort of ombudsman to whom aggrieved gang members could appeal. Since "Tammany" was an Indian name, its rank and file were accordingly known as braves. On law enforcement charts, the lowest ranked members of the Mafia were called soldiers, a term that might also encompass crew members who were not "made." While it is sometimes claimed that any Italian made man outranked any non-Italian, this was not the case. A mob soldier, even a crew chief, had to be very respectful around "Bugsy" Siegel or "Shotgun" Alex, men whose nicknames alone indicated their temperament and propensities.
Even the boss title could sometimes be misleading. Some who bore it were no more than titular leaders. Gaetano Gagliano was formally boss of what became the Lucchese family from 1931 until his death in 1951, when he was succeeded by his underboss, Gaetano "Tommy" Lucchese. Yet during the period when Gagliano was supposedly in charge, there was virtually no mention of him, while Lucchese was well known, just as European kings and presidents have often been overshadowed by their prime ministers. Sometimes it was unclear who was actually running a particular Mafia gang. In the 1980s the federal government prosecuted "Fat Tony" Salerno as head of New York's Genovese family even though he was actually the number two man.
The key to the American Mafia's success was its ability to buy or neutralize public officials. Until the 1920s, organizations such as Tammany Hall or Chicago's First Ward had the final say over organized crime. Then Prohibition- rich gangsters turned the tables and began to act as the partners or, in some instances, controllers of the politicians. As one criminal justice official told historian Arthur Sloane, "The mobsters have always been wedded to the political system. That's how they survive. Without that wedding they would be terrorists and we'd get rid of them." The decline of the Mafia began after the 1950s, when the mobs could not muster the political influence to protect themselves from the law enforcement assault led by the federal government.
In the present work I have adopted a broad approach, as opposed to a more narrow focus on a particular mob family or individual leader. Sometimes police or journalists have labeled gangs such as New York's Gambinos or the Chicago Outfit the premier mob families in America. Such assessments are like rankings of college football teams. The view of one expert is not always shared by another or borne out on the playing field. A similar practice is to designate an individual gangster such as Vito Genovese or Carlo Gambino "Boss of Bosses." For a long time, law enforcement followed the same narrow approach in its war on the Mafia: Go after an individual Mr. Big. The turning point in the war came in the 1980s, when the federal government broadened its targets and took down most of the leadership of all five New York families in one fell swoop.
Thanks to Thomas Reppetto
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