Friends of ours: Frank Calabrese, James "Little Jimmy" Marcello, Joseph "Joey the Clown" Lombardo, Frank "The German" Schweihs
Like the old grey mare, the Chicago outfit isn't like it used to be.
"You are dealing with a bunch of old men. So they are going to have problems. I mean they are not unlike other senior citizens. They have problems," said Joe Lopez, Frank Calabrese's lawyer.
Defense attorneys noted in court Thursday that a number of the dozen or so remaining defendants in the "Family Secrets" case have a myriad of health problems, and they urged Uncle Sam to pick up the tab.
The outfit's aches and pains range from possible back surgery to new choppers. Calabrese has a bad back, needs an MRI and probably will have surgery. James Marcello needs dentures and is suffering from gum disease. Joe Lombardo has heart problems and Frank Schweihs is hard of hearing and needs hearing aids.
Calabrese's lawyer outlined his client's woes at the federal jail. "He's taking 15 pills a day, and its having an effect on him up there on 21 because he's very uncomfortable where he's at," Lopez said.
Meanwhile lawyer Rick Halprin argues that 77-year-old Joe Lombardo was not involved in any criminal conspiracy and never has been a member of the mob. In fact Lombardo once took out an ad in a newspaper denying any membership in the outfit. "There is no allegation in that indictment that Joe Lombardo is a made member or a boss or an underboss," Halprin said.
Some of the defendants claim they are not able to listen to or watch FBI video and audio tapes in jail due to poor equipment. They want occasional visits to their lawyers' offices to screen the material there.
Thanks to John "Bulldog" Drummond
Friday, November 17, 2006
Fuggedaboudit! The Show Must Go On
It appears the show will go on after a federal judge Wednesday refused to block this week's opening of a Batavia middle school play branded racially insensitive by an Italian-American coalition.
U.S. District Court Judge John Grady said free speech trumps any alleged harm to the plaintiff, a 12-year-old pupil at Rotolo Middle School. Grady also said he failed to see how the plaintiff was harmed by the play, "Fuggedaboudit: A Little Mobster Comedy," because it was not shown that the boy was of the same social class as those depicted. Grady, however, admitted he had not read the play.
"Does this play communicate to a rational person that all Americans of Italian descent are members of the Mafia or have criminal inclinations?" the judge asked in his Chicago courtroom.
"I have difficulty with the notion that this young plaintiff is, for purposes of today's discussion, in the same class as 12 or so adults depicted in the play," the judge said later.
The plaintiff's mother, Marina Amoroso-Levato, said she was upset by the ruling. "I think the play was a total, from cover to cover, annihilation of Italian-Americans," she said. "If the judge didn't see that, it's unfortunate."
A civil rights suit filed Tuesday by the coalition is pending.
Performances are set for Friday during school hours, and on Friday and Saturday evenings, at Rotolo Middle School, 1501 S. Raddant Rd. Pupils who do not want to attend the play will have the option of participating in another activity, according to a statement released Wednesday by Supt. Jack Barshinger.
The school has also provided support for the cast, crew and faculty working on the play, the statement said, to help everyone understand the complexity of the concerns surrounding this play.
Members of the coalition are considering a non-disruptive response to the performances, said Tony Barratta, president of the Grand Lodge of Illinois, Order Sons of Italy in America.
They also expressed dismay at the judge's ruling, but said they were not surprised. "The banner of free speech does allow people wide latitude, and we're very grateful for that," said Dominic DiFrisco, president emeritus of the Joint Civic Committee of Italian Americans. "But we were hoping that fair speech would be considered in this case.
"Whatever the judge's decision, going to court was necessary to raise the issue of gross injustice that's constantly barraging the Italian-American community," he said.
He urged the school to balance the performance with lessons about the positive contributions of Italian-Americans.
The school statement characterized the play as a spoof of various characters whose good deeds are misconstrued by everyone.
A script released by the Sons of Italy last week indicates the play is the story of two brothers, Joey and Gino Caprese, who are opening an Italian restaurant. Their customers include two mobsters who are inspired to do something good after being on the take for so long.
The material is not offensive to Italian-Americans, argued the school's attorney, Anthony Scariano. "The only two clowns in the play are the American FBI agents who can't get a body recording right," he said.
The uproar over the play began when the plaintiff's mother read the "Fuggedaboudit" script and contacted the Sons of Italy, the nation's oldest and largest Italian heritage organization.
Amoroso-Levato decided she wouldn't let her son see it. "He's upset--he doesn't want his schoolmates to have to view this." But she said the experience is a lesson for her son. "I think it will be good for him to stand up for what he believes in."
Thanks to Jeff Cohen and Kate Hawley
U.S. District Court Judge John Grady said free speech trumps any alleged harm to the plaintiff, a 12-year-old pupil at Rotolo Middle School. Grady also said he failed to see how the plaintiff was harmed by the play, "Fuggedaboudit: A Little Mobster Comedy," because it was not shown that the boy was of the same social class as those depicted. Grady, however, admitted he had not read the play.
"Does this play communicate to a rational person that all Americans of Italian descent are members of the Mafia or have criminal inclinations?" the judge asked in his Chicago courtroom.
"I have difficulty with the notion that this young plaintiff is, for purposes of today's discussion, in the same class as 12 or so adults depicted in the play," the judge said later.
The plaintiff's mother, Marina Amoroso-Levato, said she was upset by the ruling. "I think the play was a total, from cover to cover, annihilation of Italian-Americans," she said. "If the judge didn't see that, it's unfortunate."
A civil rights suit filed Tuesday by the coalition is pending.
Performances are set for Friday during school hours, and on Friday and Saturday evenings, at Rotolo Middle School, 1501 S. Raddant Rd. Pupils who do not want to attend the play will have the option of participating in another activity, according to a statement released Wednesday by Supt. Jack Barshinger.
The school has also provided support for the cast, crew and faculty working on the play, the statement said, to help everyone understand the complexity of the concerns surrounding this play.
Members of the coalition are considering a non-disruptive response to the performances, said Tony Barratta, president of the Grand Lodge of Illinois, Order Sons of Italy in America.
They also expressed dismay at the judge's ruling, but said they were not surprised. "The banner of free speech does allow people wide latitude, and we're very grateful for that," said Dominic DiFrisco, president emeritus of the Joint Civic Committee of Italian Americans. "But we were hoping that fair speech would be considered in this case.
"Whatever the judge's decision, going to court was necessary to raise the issue of gross injustice that's constantly barraging the Italian-American community," he said.
He urged the school to balance the performance with lessons about the positive contributions of Italian-Americans.
The school statement characterized the play as a spoof of various characters whose good deeds are misconstrued by everyone.
A script released by the Sons of Italy last week indicates the play is the story of two brothers, Joey and Gino Caprese, who are opening an Italian restaurant. Their customers include two mobsters who are inspired to do something good after being on the take for so long.
The material is not offensive to Italian-Americans, argued the school's attorney, Anthony Scariano. "The only two clowns in the play are the American FBI agents who can't get a body recording right," he said.
The uproar over the play began when the plaintiff's mother read the "Fuggedaboudit" script and contacted the Sons of Italy, the nation's oldest and largest Italian heritage organization.
Amoroso-Levato decided she wouldn't let her son see it. "He's upset--he doesn't want his schoolmates to have to view this." But she said the experience is a lesson for her son. "I think it will be good for him to stand up for what he believes in."
Thanks to Jeff Cohen and Kate Hawley
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Hoffa's Hitman Comes Forward?
Do we finally know the identity of who killed Jimmy Hoffa? The Hoffa Files believes it does in reviewing how the tough guy helped make Las Vegas. The beginning of the end started for Hoffa when he asked "I heard you paint houses."
Fuggedaboudit: A Little Mobster Comedy
A national Italian-American organization is seeking to legally prevent a Chicago suburban school from staging a play about mobsters, alleging stereotyping.
The Rotolo Middle school in Batavia, west of Chicago, set off a national protest campaign by the Order Sons of Italy in America, who claim the play, "Fuggedaboudit: A Little Mobster Comedy" is offensive.
Attorney Joseph Rago filed a lawsuit seeking a temporary restraining order and a preliminary injunction to stop the play. He said it is "completely racially and ethnically offensive and inappropriate for middle school children," the Chicago Sun-Times reported.
The show was to have a dress rehearsal Wednesday and run Friday and Saturday nights.
The school has refused to cancel the show and officials refused to speak with reporters, the newspaper said.
It was a mother of an Italian-American student at the school who first complained but she asked not to be named to spare her son any ridicule, the Chicago Tribune reported.
The Rotolo Middle school in Batavia, west of Chicago, set off a national protest campaign by the Order Sons of Italy in America, who claim the play, "Fuggedaboudit: A Little Mobster Comedy" is offensive.
Attorney Joseph Rago filed a lawsuit seeking a temporary restraining order and a preliminary injunction to stop the play. He said it is "completely racially and ethnically offensive and inappropriate for middle school children," the Chicago Sun-Times reported.
The show was to have a dress rehearsal Wednesday and run Friday and Saturday nights.
The school has refused to cancel the show and officials refused to speak with reporters, the newspaper said.
It was a mother of an Italian-American student at the school who first complained but she asked not to be named to spare her son any ridicule, the Chicago Tribune reported.
Bonanno's Name Bambino Godfather
Friends of ours: Bonanno Crime Family, Salvatore "Sal the Ironworker/Sal the Zip" Montanga, Joseph Massino, Baldassare "Baldo" Amato, Patrick "Patty from the Bronx" DeFilippo, Vincent "Vinny Gorgeous" Basciano, John "Dapper Don" Gotti, Vincent "the Chin" Gigante
The Bonanno crime family has tapped a man of steel to rebuild its crumbling empire, the Daily News has learned.
He's Salvatore (Sal the Ironworker) Montagna, the newly minted boss of the Mafia family, according to law enforcement sources - and he's practically a bambino at only 35 years of age.
The Sicilian-born Montagna and his wife, Francesca, own a small ironworks company in Brooklyn, but they show no signs of living the high-life of a Mafia don. The couple and their three daughters live in a modest ranch house in working-class Elmont, L.I., not far from the Queens border.
"Putting someone that young and relatively unknown in charge indicates that they're desperately seeking to salvage the remnants of the family from the recent prosecutions and convictions," said Mark Feldman, former chief of organized crime for the Brooklyn U.S. attorney's office.
Feldman said the move clearly "signals desperation" on the part of a mob family that has seen three bosses and acting dons bite the dust in three years. Most noteworthy was the conviction of longtime family boss Joseph Massino, who is now serving life in prison.
Last night, a teenage girl answered the door of Montagna's vinyl-sided home on Oakley Ave. and said the reputed crime kingpin was not at home. Two little sisters stood at her side. Outside, a small construction crew was wrapping up its day working on Montagna's brick driveway.
A short time later, Francesca Montagna drove up in a late-model Lexus SUV and turned angry when asked if her husband was the new head of the Bonanno family. "I don't know what you're talking about," said the dark- haired woman, dressed in a sweatsuit. "I have kids in here. It's not appropriate for you to be here."
Until now, Montagna has rarely appeared on the radar of the NYPD and the feds, and neighbors said they knew nothing about any reputed mob ties. Still, the Mafia talk didn't worry them. "Am I scared?" said one local. "Absolutely not. I come from Brooklyn. Believe me, when you live next to one of these people, there's nothing to be afraid of."
Another neighbor found the suggestion "ridiculous," but quickly added, "We'd be shocked and scared at the same time if that is true. Wow!"
The Montagnas run the family-owned Matrix Steel Co. on Bogart St. in Brooklyn. According to Dun & Bradstreet, the firm supplies structural material for builders and reported a modest $1.5 million in sales last year.
In 2003, Montagna pleaded guilty to criminal contempt charges and was sentenced to probation for refusing to answer questions before a Manhattan grand jury. He had been indicted a year earlier after a probe by the Manhattan district attorney's office as one of 20 wiseguys charged in a takedown of a Mafia crew allegedly involved in gambling, loansharking and weapons possession.
Whether the new Bonanno boss has any other arrests was unclear yesterday.
"He's well-liked by the rank and file," said an underworld source, adding that Montagna is also known as Sal the Zip, a reference to the name bestowed on members of the crime family's Sicilian wing.
Sources said Montagna was close to legendary Bonanno gangster Baldassare (Baldo) Amato, another immigrant from near Castellammare del Golfo in Sicily, and served in the crew of capo Patrick (Patty from the Bronx) DeFilippo. Those guys are largely history now, with Amato recently sentenced to life in prison and DeFilippo facing a retrial on murder charges.
Led by Assistant U.S. Attorney Greg Andres, the feds have indicted and convicted more than 70 Bonanno gangsters since 2002, leaving behind about 75 shell-shocked members on the street. Sources said Montagna's promotion couldn't have happened without the blessing of Vincent (Vinny Gorgeous) Basciano, who once operated Hello Gorgeous, a hair salon in the Bronx, and became the official boss of the crime family after Massino turned rat.
Thomas Reppetto, author of the just-published "Bringing Down The Mob: A War Against the American Mafia (Henry Holt)," said the new breed of boss pales in comparison to past godfathers like the late John Gotti or Vincent Gigante. "There may no longer be a boss in the sense that we understood the term, an all-powerful figure at the top, because naming an official boss provides the FBI with a clear target," Reppetto said.
Thanks to John Marzulli
The Bonanno crime family has tapped a man of steel to rebuild its crumbling empire, the Daily News has learned.
He's Salvatore (Sal the Ironworker) Montagna, the newly minted boss of the Mafia family, according to law enforcement sources - and he's practically a bambino at only 35 years of age.
The Sicilian-born Montagna and his wife, Francesca, own a small ironworks company in Brooklyn, but they show no signs of living the high-life of a Mafia don. The couple and their three daughters live in a modest ranch house in working-class Elmont, L.I., not far from the Queens border.
"Putting someone that young and relatively unknown in charge indicates that they're desperately seeking to salvage the remnants of the family from the recent prosecutions and convictions," said Mark Feldman, former chief of organized crime for the Brooklyn U.S. attorney's office.
Feldman said the move clearly "signals desperation" on the part of a mob family that has seen three bosses and acting dons bite the dust in three years. Most noteworthy was the conviction of longtime family boss Joseph Massino, who is now serving life in prison.
Last night, a teenage girl answered the door of Montagna's vinyl-sided home on Oakley Ave. and said the reputed crime kingpin was not at home. Two little sisters stood at her side. Outside, a small construction crew was wrapping up its day working on Montagna's brick driveway.
A short time later, Francesca Montagna drove up in a late-model Lexus SUV and turned angry when asked if her husband was the new head of the Bonanno family. "I don't know what you're talking about," said the dark- haired woman, dressed in a sweatsuit. "I have kids in here. It's not appropriate for you to be here."
Until now, Montagna has rarely appeared on the radar of the NYPD and the feds, and neighbors said they knew nothing about any reputed mob ties. Still, the Mafia talk didn't worry them. "Am I scared?" said one local. "Absolutely not. I come from Brooklyn. Believe me, when you live next to one of these people, there's nothing to be afraid of."
Another neighbor found the suggestion "ridiculous," but quickly added, "We'd be shocked and scared at the same time if that is true. Wow!"
The Montagnas run the family-owned Matrix Steel Co. on Bogart St. in Brooklyn. According to Dun & Bradstreet, the firm supplies structural material for builders and reported a modest $1.5 million in sales last year.
In 2003, Montagna pleaded guilty to criminal contempt charges and was sentenced to probation for refusing to answer questions before a Manhattan grand jury. He had been indicted a year earlier after a probe by the Manhattan district attorney's office as one of 20 wiseguys charged in a takedown of a Mafia crew allegedly involved in gambling, loansharking and weapons possession.
Whether the new Bonanno boss has any other arrests was unclear yesterday.
"He's well-liked by the rank and file," said an underworld source, adding that Montagna is also known as Sal the Zip, a reference to the name bestowed on members of the crime family's Sicilian wing.
Sources said Montagna was close to legendary Bonanno gangster Baldassare (Baldo) Amato, another immigrant from near Castellammare del Golfo in Sicily, and served in the crew of capo Patrick (Patty from the Bronx) DeFilippo. Those guys are largely history now, with Amato recently sentenced to life in prison and DeFilippo facing a retrial on murder charges.
Led by Assistant U.S. Attorney Greg Andres, the feds have indicted and convicted more than 70 Bonanno gangsters since 2002, leaving behind about 75 shell-shocked members on the street. Sources said Montagna's promotion couldn't have happened without the blessing of Vincent (Vinny Gorgeous) Basciano, who once operated Hello Gorgeous, a hair salon in the Bronx, and became the official boss of the crime family after Massino turned rat.
Thomas Reppetto, author of the just-published "Bringing Down The Mob: A War Against the American Mafia (Henry Holt)," said the new breed of boss pales in comparison to past godfathers like the late John Gotti or Vincent Gigante. "There may no longer be a boss in the sense that we understood the term, an all-powerful figure at the top, because naming an official boss provides the FBI with a clear target," Reppetto said.
Thanks to John Marzulli
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Giancana to Hit the Big Screen
Friends of ours: Sam "Momo" Giancana
Sam Giancana, a mobster popular among conspiracy theorists for his connections to notables such as John F. Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe, will soon be shooting up the big screen.
Infomercial producer Mark Williams has acquired the film rights to the novel "Double Cross," which tells the story of how the gangster rose from being a hit man for Al Capone to becoming a powerful don.
Giancana, who was nicknamed "Momo" because of his unpredictable vicious behavior, was assassinated in 1975 before he was to appear before a Senate committee investigating CIA and Mafia links to plots to kill Fidel Castro.
The 1992 book -- written by Giancana's brother, Chuck Giancana, and his nephew, Sam Giancana -- stated that he ordered the deaths of Kennedy and Monroe.
It will be adapted for the screen by Edgar Allan Poe Award winner Alfonse Ruggiero Jr., an editor-turned-writer who established himself in the crime field with credits such as "Miami Vice," "Wiseguy," "Crime & Punishment" and the 1990s television version of "The Untouchables."
When the adaptation is made, it wouldn't be the first time Giancana is portrayed onscreen. He has been the subject of several screen biographies, including one in which he was played by Tony Curtis. Rod Steiger played him in the "Sinatra" miniseries. Producer Mark Wolper at one point was trying to get a Giancana miniseries off the ground for TNT.
Williams, who first developed an interest in the mob when growing up in Chicago and knowing people who had links to the organization, made his name in the infomercial industry, becoming one of its top producers. Among his numerous credits are "How to be Successful in America Today" and "The Donald Trump Way to Wealth."
Sam Giancana, a mobster popular among conspiracy theorists for his connections to notables such as John F. Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe, will soon be shooting up the big screen.
Infomercial producer Mark Williams has acquired the film rights to the novel "Double Cross," which tells the story of how the gangster rose from being a hit man for Al Capone to becoming a powerful don.
Giancana, who was nicknamed "Momo" because of his unpredictable vicious behavior, was assassinated in 1975 before he was to appear before a Senate committee investigating CIA and Mafia links to plots to kill Fidel Castro.
The 1992 book -- written by Giancana's brother, Chuck Giancana, and his nephew, Sam Giancana -- stated that he ordered the deaths of Kennedy and Monroe.
It will be adapted for the screen by Edgar Allan Poe Award winner Alfonse Ruggiero Jr., an editor-turned-writer who established himself in the crime field with credits such as "Miami Vice," "Wiseguy," "Crime & Punishment" and the 1990s television version of "The Untouchables."
When the adaptation is made, it wouldn't be the first time Giancana is portrayed onscreen. He has been the subject of several screen biographies, including one in which he was played by Tony Curtis. Rod Steiger played him in the "Sinatra" miniseries. Producer Mark Wolper at one point was trying to get a Giancana miniseries off the ground for TNT.
Williams, who first developed an interest in the mob when growing up in Chicago and knowing people who had links to the organization, made his name in the infomercial industry, becoming one of its top producers. Among his numerous credits are "How to be Successful in America Today" and "The Donald Trump Way to Wealth."
Gambino Wiseguy Gets 20 Years in Prison
Friends of ours: Michael Yannotti, John "Junior" Gotti, Gambino Crime Family
Curtis Sliwa brushed away tears yesterday as a judge sentenced a Gambino thug he long wanted to see behind bars to 20 years in prison.
Jurors may have cleared Michael Yannotti in the 1992 point-blank shooting of the radio host - but Manhattan Federal Judge Shira Scheindlin refused to show the Mafia muscle any mercy as she sent him up the river on an unrelated racketeering count.
Sliwa was shot twice as he tried to dive out the window of a stolen yellow cab whose doors had been rigged shut.
Scheindlin made clear she still believes Yannotti was the triggerman. "How Mr. Sliwa survived the attack at all is simply a miracle," Scheindlin said. She said Sliwa, the founder of the city's famed Guardian Angels, "demonstrated superhuman strength and ingenuity to get out of that death car."
After watching crime boss John Gotti Jr. score three mistrials for his alleged role in the shooting, Sliwa said it was the first time he'd felt a measure of justice for the attack he says wrecked his second marriage and left him with intestinal injuries that cause him suffering every day. "This is not Sicily, this is not Baghdad, this is not Gaza," Sliwa said. "When he shot those bullets into me he attempted to stifle my free speech. ... It's a nightmare ... mentally and physically."
Yannotti, 43, shook his head in disbelief each time Scheindlin linked him to the shooting. Prosecutors say Gotti sent Yannotti and another wiseguy to abduct Sliwa on June 19, 1992, following Sliwa's relentless on-air attacks on the Gotti clan.
Yannotti, the feds insist, jumped up from the passenger seat of the cab and, shouting, "Take this, you son of a b----," fired two shots from a .38-caliber gun that hit Sliwa in his leg and abdomen.
The 20-year sentence stunned Yannotti's supporters. "Jesus," one whispered as Yannotti's sobbing sister ran from court.
Jurors at Yannotti's 2005 trial acquitted him of the Sliwa shooting on a vote of seven to five favoring conviction. But prosecutor Victor Hou argued that the judge could factor the shooting into Yannotti's sentence on racketeering charges that included extortion and loansharking counts because of the "ample evidence" of his involvement.
Scheindlin agreed and ignore Yannotti's handwritten plea for mercy. "My parents are older and I don't have much time," Yannotti, 43, wrote. "I would like them to know their only son turned out all right." He asked that she allow him to restart his life with a wife he married in 1999 and two young daughters he called "the little treasures."
Sliwa vows to press ahead with a lawsuit accusing Junior Gotti of his role in his shooting. "The guy I still hold responsible for this is John Gotti Jr.," Sliwa said.
Thanks to Thomas Zambito
Curtis Sliwa brushed away tears yesterday as a judge sentenced a Gambino thug he long wanted to see behind bars to 20 years in prison.
Jurors may have cleared Michael Yannotti in the 1992 point-blank shooting of the radio host - but Manhattan Federal Judge Shira Scheindlin refused to show the Mafia muscle any mercy as she sent him up the river on an unrelated racketeering count.
Sliwa was shot twice as he tried to dive out the window of a stolen yellow cab whose doors had been rigged shut.
Scheindlin made clear she still believes Yannotti was the triggerman. "How Mr. Sliwa survived the attack at all is simply a miracle," Scheindlin said. She said Sliwa, the founder of the city's famed Guardian Angels, "demonstrated superhuman strength and ingenuity to get out of that death car."
After watching crime boss John Gotti Jr. score three mistrials for his alleged role in the shooting, Sliwa said it was the first time he'd felt a measure of justice for the attack he says wrecked his second marriage and left him with intestinal injuries that cause him suffering every day. "This is not Sicily, this is not Baghdad, this is not Gaza," Sliwa said. "When he shot those bullets into me he attempted to stifle my free speech. ... It's a nightmare ... mentally and physically."
Yannotti, 43, shook his head in disbelief each time Scheindlin linked him to the shooting. Prosecutors say Gotti sent Yannotti and another wiseguy to abduct Sliwa on June 19, 1992, following Sliwa's relentless on-air attacks on the Gotti clan.
Yannotti, the feds insist, jumped up from the passenger seat of the cab and, shouting, "Take this, you son of a b----," fired two shots from a .38-caliber gun that hit Sliwa in his leg and abdomen.
The 20-year sentence stunned Yannotti's supporters. "Jesus," one whispered as Yannotti's sobbing sister ran from court.
Jurors at Yannotti's 2005 trial acquitted him of the Sliwa shooting on a vote of seven to five favoring conviction. But prosecutor Victor Hou argued that the judge could factor the shooting into Yannotti's sentence on racketeering charges that included extortion and loansharking counts because of the "ample evidence" of his involvement.
Scheindlin agreed and ignore Yannotti's handwritten plea for mercy. "My parents are older and I don't have much time," Yannotti, 43, wrote. "I would like them to know their only son turned out all right." He asked that she allow him to restart his life with a wife he married in 1999 and two young daughters he called "the little treasures."
Sliwa vows to press ahead with a lawsuit accusing Junior Gotti of his role in his shooting. "The guy I still hold responsible for this is John Gotti Jr.," Sliwa said.
Thanks to Thomas Zambito
Monday, November 13, 2006
Lombardo Might Argue He Dropped Out of Conspiracy
Friends of ours: Joseph "Joey the Clown" Lombardo
When Joseph "Joey the Clown" Lombardo was out of prison in the early 1990s, he felt his parole officer was hassling him over his alleged leadership of the Chicago Outfit.
So Lombardo told the parole officer that he would make him the head of the Chicago Outfit, a source familiar with the matter said. Of course, Lombardo did nothing of the sort, but that didn't stop Lombardo from aggravating his parole officer when the man came by on surprise visits to check up on him.
Had the parole officer called any mob meetings? Lombardo would ask.
More important, was the parole officer getting his take?
Lombardo even took out a newspaper ad saying he wasn't a "made" member and telling anyone who heard his name used in connection with crimes to call his parole officer. Beneath the clownery of more than a decade ago lie the seeds of a possible defense today.
Lombardo, 77, is charged along with other reputed top Chicago mobsters in one of the most significant cases ever against the Outfit. Prosecutors place responsibility for 18 mob hits on the organization Lombardo was allegedly a part of for decades.
The feds have charged Lombardo with only one of the murders specifically, that of Daniel Seifert, who was shotgunned in front of his family in 1974 before he could testify against Lombardo in a criminal case. Lombardo will argue he has an alibi for the time the murder happened.
Lombardo was sentenced to 15 years in prison in 1983 for conspiring to bribe Sen. Howard Cannon to kill or at least delay legislation deregulating the trucking industry. In 1986, he was sentenced to 16 years -- later reduced to 14 -- for his role in maintaining hidden interests in several Las Vegas casinos and skimming their proceeds. He got out in 1992.
In the current case against him, Lombardo is expected to deny ever being a "made" member of the mob. But if the jury doesn't buy that, then Lombardo could argue he clearly dropped out of any criminal conspiracy more than five years ago -- given the ad he took out in 1992.
By law, withdrawing from a conspiracy more than five years before an indictment is brought is a valid defense to not being part of any ongoing conspiracy. The feds charged the case last year.
Lombardo's attorney, Rick Halprin, declined to comment on the defense but when pressed did not deny that Lombardo's defense team is considering a so-called withdrawal defense, among its options.
It's a defense that's rarely used, because the standard for withdrawing from a criminal conspiracy is high -- for instance, calling the cops and telling them you're no longer part of a criminal conspiracy. It would likely be up to a jury to decide whether Lombardo's actions, such as taking out the ad, met the standard, and whether he truly did drop out -- a claim federal officials are expected to contest vigorously. The possible defense was suggested in a recent court filing by Lombardo's defense team that sought copies of all his parole and probation material.
Lombardo reportedly has an unblemished record since his release from prison, and that information could be used to buttress his claim that he had nothing to do with organized crime after his release.
Thanks to Steve Warmbir
When Joseph "Joey the Clown" Lombardo was out of prison in the early 1990s, he felt his parole officer was hassling him over his alleged leadership of the Chicago Outfit.
So Lombardo told the parole officer that he would make him the head of the Chicago Outfit, a source familiar with the matter said. Of course, Lombardo did nothing of the sort, but that didn't stop Lombardo from aggravating his parole officer when the man came by on surprise visits to check up on him.
Had the parole officer called any mob meetings? Lombardo would ask.
More important, was the parole officer getting his take?
Lombardo even took out a newspaper ad saying he wasn't a "made" member and telling anyone who heard his name used in connection with crimes to call his parole officer. Beneath the clownery of more than a decade ago lie the seeds of a possible defense today.
Lombardo, 77, is charged along with other reputed top Chicago mobsters in one of the most significant cases ever against the Outfit. Prosecutors place responsibility for 18 mob hits on the organization Lombardo was allegedly a part of for decades.
The feds have charged Lombardo with only one of the murders specifically, that of Daniel Seifert, who was shotgunned in front of his family in 1974 before he could testify against Lombardo in a criminal case. Lombardo will argue he has an alibi for the time the murder happened.
Lombardo was sentenced to 15 years in prison in 1983 for conspiring to bribe Sen. Howard Cannon to kill or at least delay legislation deregulating the trucking industry. In 1986, he was sentenced to 16 years -- later reduced to 14 -- for his role in maintaining hidden interests in several Las Vegas casinos and skimming their proceeds. He got out in 1992.
In the current case against him, Lombardo is expected to deny ever being a "made" member of the mob. But if the jury doesn't buy that, then Lombardo could argue he clearly dropped out of any criminal conspiracy more than five years ago -- given the ad he took out in 1992.
By law, withdrawing from a conspiracy more than five years before an indictment is brought is a valid defense to not being part of any ongoing conspiracy. The feds charged the case last year.
Lombardo's attorney, Rick Halprin, declined to comment on the defense but when pressed did not deny that Lombardo's defense team is considering a so-called withdrawal defense, among its options.
It's a defense that's rarely used, because the standard for withdrawing from a criminal conspiracy is high -- for instance, calling the cops and telling them you're no longer part of a criminal conspiracy. It would likely be up to a jury to decide whether Lombardo's actions, such as taking out the ad, met the standard, and whether he truly did drop out -- a claim federal officials are expected to contest vigorously. The possible defense was suggested in a recent court filing by Lombardo's defense team that sought copies of all his parole and probation material.
Lombardo reportedly has an unblemished record since his release from prison, and that information could be used to buttress his claim that he had nothing to do with organized crime after his release.
Thanks to Steve Warmbir
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Mobsters Battle World Trade Center?
Last month, Paramount Pictures held a cocktail party at the tony Hollywood restaurant Mortons to honor director Oliver Stone. Studio chief Brad Grey took the stage to praise the director for his work on "World Trade Center," which Paramount distributed. The movie's composer tapped out a few tunes from the film's original score, while star Nicolas Cage mingled with the assembled executives and movie-industry media.
Held under the guise of celebrating Mr. Stone's award for director of the year from the Hollywood Film Festival, the event was widely seen as the starting gun for Paramount's campaign for an Oscar nomination for "World Trade Center." After a few barren seasons at the Academy Awards, Paramount's top brass are determined to win recognition at next February's Oscar ceremony.
Paramount's attempt to tackle the 9/11 attacks might seem like an Oscar natural except for one problem: rival 9/11 movie "United 93" from Universal Pictures. While the two films tiptoed around each other at the box office this year as audiences questioned whether it was too soon for Hollywood to take on the subject, they are going head-to-head for an Oscar nomination.
Mindful that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is unlikely to nominate both 9/11 movies for one of the five contender slots set aside for the Best Picture award, Paramount and Universal are preparing sharp-elbowed campaigns to reel in Oscar voters. In stark contrast to the low-key marketing they used when the two movies hit theaters, the studios are spending many millions of dollars to blitz Academy members with big-bang advertising and glitzy events such as the one at Mortons.
Each fall, studios lavish much time and money on campaigns aimed at winning an Oscar nod for their movies. The aggressive lobbying by filmmakers such as Harvey Weinstein for "Shakespeare in Love," "Chicago" and other movies proved that such promotion can pay off. "Crash" upset the apple cart by winning Best Picture at the last awards in March after a finely tuned campaign that targeted the biggest presence in the Academy: actors.
This year's Oscar playing field is wide open. Possible early contenders include Martin Scorsese's mob thriller "The Departed," the quirky, low-budget comedy "Little Miss Sunshine," the musical "Dreamgirls" (which opens next month) and Clint Eastwood's war epic "Flags of Our Fathers." But no title has yet emerged as a slam-dunk for a Best Picture nomination.
Both Universal and Paramount have strong motivation to get their 9/11 movies nominated. Universal has been an aggressive presence in the pre-Oscar race in recent years but has few other candidates to push this year. At Paramount, Mr. Grey is eager for some Oscar glitter after turning around the Viacom-owned studio. His boss Sumner Redstone also has been talking up the movie's Oscar chances around town.
To help craft its campaign, Universal's team has tapped former Weinstein strategist Tony Angellotti, who has guided 17 movies to best-picture nominations, including "Shakespeare in Love" and "The English Patient." Paramount, meantime, has dedicated a sprawling team to its lobbying, including Hollywood public-relations maven Pat Kingsley.
Both campaigns share an obvious challenge: their subject matter. "United 93" is a documentary-style, real-time account of United Airlines Flight 93, the hijacked jet that crashed in Pennsylvania. "World Trade Center" is a more polished drama about police officers buried in the rubble of the towers. While "United 93" literally ends with a plane crash, "World Trade Center" concludes with an uplifting rescue scene. "It's going to be tough getting the voters to watch these movies," said Sasha Stone, editor Oscarwatch.com, a Web site dedicated to tracking the awards. "Who wants to devote their time to feeling awful for two hours?"
Historically, the Academy members have sometimes had trouble embracing difficult material based on real-life events. "Hotel Rwanda," a gritty drama about the civil war in that African nation, was snubbed in 2005 for a Best Picture nomination after winning nominations and awards in other competitions. After "Saving Private Ryan" missed out to "Shakespeare in Love" in 1999, the filmmakers of the war drama discovered that many Academy members hadn't seen the movie. (The Academy tells its 5,800-plus voters each year not to vote for films they haven't watched.)
If the box office is anything to go by, "World Trade Center" has had more success at finding an audience than "United 93." Pitching itself as a more elaborate Hollywood production about courage and survival, Paramount's movie sold about $152 million worth of tickets world-wide, while "United 93" brought in about half that, despite having an edge with the critics.
Indeed, a big part of Paramount's campaign is positioning its movie as the "successful 9/11 movie," based on its ability to draw a bigger audience. Two-page ads in Hollywood's trade publications this week featured the world-wide ticket sales figures for "World Trade Center" in huge print. Of course, the audience has little to do with how profitable each movie was: "World Trade Center" cost considerably more. But "United 93" does face a bigger challenge in creating the aura of being a big Oscar movie.
The Academy is set to announce its nominations on Jan. 23. (The Oscars awards ceremony is Feb. 25.) That gives the studios just six weeks to work on voters before the ballots are sent out.
The Universal team got a head start last month by blanketing Academy members with DVD versions of the films, called screeners. The team's challenge is to rebuild interest in the title: The movie came out in April, and publicity for the DVD debut in September has come and gone. Studios often release their Oscar contenders in the fall to keep them fresh in the minds of members. Still, "Crash" showed that an early-in-the-year release can succeed if it is backed by an aggressive push.
The "United 93" screeners arrived on desks and mailboxes in Hollywood at the same time as an expensive advertising campaign: eye-catching, three-page ads in newspapers and magazines featuring a single tagline on the first page: "A movie can matter." The ads used no images, just words, and played up the decent reviews the movie garnered. To some in the movie business, the big ads were more striking than the low-key campaign Universal used during "United 93"'s actual run in theaters.
By striking early, Universal hopes to get Oscar voters to see the movie before they get bogged down with other contenders. Following close on its heels, though, was the screener for "World Trade Center," which was released in theaters in August. Paramount is running continuous print ads showing dramatic images from the movie and also plans to use the DVD release of the movie next month to boost its Academy push. The DVD will be accompanied by yet more advertising and possibly another elaborate event featuring the stars.
The fact that "World Trade Center" is the product of a popular if polemic director and features a well-known cast including Mr. Cage may give the movie a leg up. For one thing, it will be considered in the acting-awards categories of the Oscars, something unlikely for "United 93" because that film used mostly unknown performers, with some people involved in the events that day playing themselves.
The big question is whether Paramount will wheel out survivors of the World Trade Center disaster to support its campaign. Both studios are aware that highlighting the filmmaking over the subject material is a safer route as the time to check off Oscar ballots nears. Academy members say they rarely vote to make a statement, which may have had something to do with why "Crash" overturned "Brokeback Mountain" at the last awards.
Ms. Stone says a big risk for the studios is that the audience for the two 9/11 movies may be divided and thus diluted, with members favoring one film or the other. "The two films might cancel each other out," she says. "There's a good chance that will happen."
Thanks to Merissa Marr
Held under the guise of celebrating Mr. Stone's award for director of the year from the Hollywood Film Festival, the event was widely seen as the starting gun for Paramount's campaign for an Oscar nomination for "World Trade Center." After a few barren seasons at the Academy Awards, Paramount's top brass are determined to win recognition at next February's Oscar ceremony.
Paramount's attempt to tackle the 9/11 attacks might seem like an Oscar natural except for one problem: rival 9/11 movie "United 93" from Universal Pictures. While the two films tiptoed around each other at the box office this year as audiences questioned whether it was too soon for Hollywood to take on the subject, they are going head-to-head for an Oscar nomination.
Mindful that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is unlikely to nominate both 9/11 movies for one of the five contender slots set aside for the Best Picture award, Paramount and Universal are preparing sharp-elbowed campaigns to reel in Oscar voters. In stark contrast to the low-key marketing they used when the two movies hit theaters, the studios are spending many millions of dollars to blitz Academy members with big-bang advertising and glitzy events such as the one at Mortons.
Each fall, studios lavish much time and money on campaigns aimed at winning an Oscar nod for their movies. The aggressive lobbying by filmmakers such as Harvey Weinstein for "Shakespeare in Love," "Chicago" and other movies proved that such promotion can pay off. "Crash" upset the apple cart by winning Best Picture at the last awards in March after a finely tuned campaign that targeted the biggest presence in the Academy: actors.
This year's Oscar playing field is wide open. Possible early contenders include Martin Scorsese's mob thriller "The Departed," the quirky, low-budget comedy "Little Miss Sunshine," the musical "Dreamgirls" (which opens next month) and Clint Eastwood's war epic "Flags of Our Fathers." But no title has yet emerged as a slam-dunk for a Best Picture nomination.
Both Universal and Paramount have strong motivation to get their 9/11 movies nominated. Universal has been an aggressive presence in the pre-Oscar race in recent years but has few other candidates to push this year. At Paramount, Mr. Grey is eager for some Oscar glitter after turning around the Viacom-owned studio. His boss Sumner Redstone also has been talking up the movie's Oscar chances around town.
To help craft its campaign, Universal's team has tapped former Weinstein strategist Tony Angellotti, who has guided 17 movies to best-picture nominations, including "Shakespeare in Love" and "The English Patient." Paramount, meantime, has dedicated a sprawling team to its lobbying, including Hollywood public-relations maven Pat Kingsley.
Both campaigns share an obvious challenge: their subject matter. "United 93" is a documentary-style, real-time account of United Airlines Flight 93, the hijacked jet that crashed in Pennsylvania. "World Trade Center" is a more polished drama about police officers buried in the rubble of the towers. While "United 93" literally ends with a plane crash, "World Trade Center" concludes with an uplifting rescue scene. "It's going to be tough getting the voters to watch these movies," said Sasha Stone, editor Oscarwatch.com, a Web site dedicated to tracking the awards. "Who wants to devote their time to feeling awful for two hours?"
Historically, the Academy members have sometimes had trouble embracing difficult material based on real-life events. "Hotel Rwanda," a gritty drama about the civil war in that African nation, was snubbed in 2005 for a Best Picture nomination after winning nominations and awards in other competitions. After "Saving Private Ryan" missed out to "Shakespeare in Love" in 1999, the filmmakers of the war drama discovered that many Academy members hadn't seen the movie. (The Academy tells its 5,800-plus voters each year not to vote for films they haven't watched.)
If the box office is anything to go by, "World Trade Center" has had more success at finding an audience than "United 93." Pitching itself as a more elaborate Hollywood production about courage and survival, Paramount's movie sold about $152 million worth of tickets world-wide, while "United 93" brought in about half that, despite having an edge with the critics.
Indeed, a big part of Paramount's campaign is positioning its movie as the "successful 9/11 movie," based on its ability to draw a bigger audience. Two-page ads in Hollywood's trade publications this week featured the world-wide ticket sales figures for "World Trade Center" in huge print. Of course, the audience has little to do with how profitable each movie was: "World Trade Center" cost considerably more. But "United 93" does face a bigger challenge in creating the aura of being a big Oscar movie.
The Academy is set to announce its nominations on Jan. 23. (The Oscars awards ceremony is Feb. 25.) That gives the studios just six weeks to work on voters before the ballots are sent out.
The Universal team got a head start last month by blanketing Academy members with DVD versions of the films, called screeners. The team's challenge is to rebuild interest in the title: The movie came out in April, and publicity for the DVD debut in September has come and gone. Studios often release their Oscar contenders in the fall to keep them fresh in the minds of members. Still, "Crash" showed that an early-in-the-year release can succeed if it is backed by an aggressive push.
The "United 93" screeners arrived on desks and mailboxes in Hollywood at the same time as an expensive advertising campaign: eye-catching, three-page ads in newspapers and magazines featuring a single tagline on the first page: "A movie can matter." The ads used no images, just words, and played up the decent reviews the movie garnered. To some in the movie business, the big ads were more striking than the low-key campaign Universal used during "United 93"'s actual run in theaters.
By striking early, Universal hopes to get Oscar voters to see the movie before they get bogged down with other contenders. Following close on its heels, though, was the screener for "World Trade Center," which was released in theaters in August. Paramount is running continuous print ads showing dramatic images from the movie and also plans to use the DVD release of the movie next month to boost its Academy push. The DVD will be accompanied by yet more advertising and possibly another elaborate event featuring the stars.
The fact that "World Trade Center" is the product of a popular if polemic director and features a well-known cast including Mr. Cage may give the movie a leg up. For one thing, it will be considered in the acting-awards categories of the Oscars, something unlikely for "United 93" because that film used mostly unknown performers, with some people involved in the events that day playing themselves.
The big question is whether Paramount will wheel out survivors of the World Trade Center disaster to support its campaign. Both studios are aware that highlighting the filmmaking over the subject material is a safer route as the time to check off Oscar ballots nears. Academy members say they rarely vote to make a statement, which may have had something to do with why "Crash" overturned "Brokeback Mountain" at the last awards.
Ms. Stone says a big risk for the studios is that the audience for the two 9/11 movies may be divided and thus diluted, with members favoring one film or the other. "The two films might cancel each other out," she says. "There's a good chance that will happen."
Thanks to Merissa Marr
Saturday, November 11, 2006
Mob Movie Lessons
Ever been to the circus? Ever see a whole pile of clowns get inside a tiny little Volkswagen? Well, Hollywood is kind of like that, except that those clowns don't have red noses; they have cameras and no clue.
I get all sorts of e-mails from you guys asking me about Goodfellas and The Godfather. One guy says, "I love the part when Pesci shoots Spider in the foot over a drink," and then I don't even have to read what comes next. The guy writes: "Does that kind of stuff really happen, man?"
Of course, the guy hopes that I will respond as follows: "Oh yeah! We have guys shooting each other in the foot all the time. I once stabbed a guy for breaking wind at the dinner table. Boy, if I had a nickel for every time I..."
Come on guys, get serious. We don't shoot each other every few hours. We want to apply pressure to our customers, not gunshot wounds. I got news for you: These mob movies are entertaining and cinematically satisfying, kind of like a good cigar, but there are a few flaws in the logic, capisce? As much as the Hollywood babbos get wrong, though, here's a few of the things they got right.
Whack the boss and you’ll get whacked
In Goodfellas, Pesci kills a made guy and later gets killed for his insubordination.
That's right: Bosses bite back. Tommy whacks Batts, Tommy gets whacked. Gross insubordination rarely goes unpunished. I don't care what organization you're in; if you take out a top guy without it being sanctioned by the management, expect retribution. We love guys who break the rules, as long as it happened 30 years ago. As for those in the present who disrespect the status quo, just read a newspaper: The world hates them.
Keep a low profile
In The Untouchables, Capone thinks he has the world on a string, and Costner snips his fantasy.
You can't fight City Hall. Capone tried to run Chicago, and he almost did. But there's always a Dudley Do-Right growing up somewhere, some little bugger who had too much baseball and apple pie. I'm talking about Eliot Ness. Guys like him restore the world to a plausible degree of corruption. This happened in New York not that long ago, with guys like Rudy Giuliani taking down the Gotti boys. If you're a wiseguy, you have to stay under the radar and not attract the attention of chattering newsmen. The world appreciates a certain amount of underground; problems only arise when the underground starts peeking into the daylight. Unless the thugs expect a revolution, they need to check their ambition and be content to rule quietly.
Always be skeptical
Pacino backs out of a billion-dollar deal because it doesn't smell right.
Talk is cheap. Remember The Godfather? Sure you do -- your e-mails are testimony to that. When Michael Corleone goes to Cuba, he's about to enter a billion-dollar deal with a bunch of glad-handers who say, " Havana is it, baby, we're gonna be filthy rich." Michael is skeptical, and they say, "Hey, don't worry, it's all worked out. Have a drink!". A day later, the government falls to a young man named Castro. The lesson here? Get the information. Don't get sweet-talked without seeing every angle. Do your homework and don't let a room full of clever suits outweigh common sense.
You have no friends
In Miller's Crossing, Gabriel Byrne says very coldly to a friend, "Friendship's got nothing to do with it."
And he's right. In many adult situations, decisions have to transcend friendship; otherwise, you get bogged down in mediocrity. Good organizations rely less on friendship than on impartial rules of order. When the time comes for a promotion, there's a good chance you'll be pitted against a friend, and as you step on his head to climb the ladder, remember to say, "Sorry, pal, it's nothin' personal."
You can’t be Mr. Nice Guy
In Casino, De Niro compares two muffins, one with a lot of blueberries and one with very few. He calls the cook onto the carpet and says, "I want the same number of blueberries in every muffin." The cook argues, "Do you know how long that's going to take?" De Niro says, "I don't care."
Somebody's got to be the asshole. In Casino, De Niro plays an anal-retentive jerk who is obsessed with perfection in his work. He seems to go overboard, but unfortunately, running a tight ship requires a disciplinarian. Take a look at sports teams and classrooms or just go into a McDonald's; it's easy to tell where the management is working. In a perfect world, we'd have nice, soft conversations, and everyone would work hard for eight hours and go home to a family meal. The truth is, people shirk, they screw around, and they like to eat out. On a side note, it's good to have a complimentary manager to offset the "cruel" manager. Giving the underlings someone they can talk to will help morale. Nobody wants to be a doormat.
Never believe you’re invincible
In Road to Perdition, Tom Hanks is a mob enforcer on the run. Just when he thinks he's safe, he gets smoked.
What goes around comes around. You live by the sword, you die by the sword. That punk kid you roughed up way back when? He will remember you until the day he dies. There's a good example of this in Road to Perdition, when the enforcer gets a taste of his own lead medicine. Treachery never goes out of style. No matter how strong you feel, there is always someone stronger or someone who knows where the chink is in your armor. Domination never lasts forever, so it's best to keep that in mind when you have power and control. That's what they called the "wheel of fortune" before it became a game show. Things change, often much faster than you'd like.
Keep your home in order
In Goodfellas, Henry Hill goes off snorting coke with his mistress while his home falls to pieces.
If you live a secret life and expect to have an orderly homebody wife to put up with it and wait back at the ranch to serve your every need, then in addition to "in sickness and in health," you might as well add "crazy" to your wedding vows. It's one thing to stray -- as any man may do. It's another to outright neglect your responsibilities to your home.
You have to gain people’s trust
In Donnie Brasco, Pacino puts his trust in someone who seems like a stand-up guy, but is really a narc.
You are who you say you are. Trust is something that is earned, and usually the best liar is the most trusted person. That's why guys like Donnie Brasco can infiltrate their enemies. Think about it: How do you gain trust? Really, all you have to do is make a sequence of consistent appearances, and pretty soon people will start to believe you’re the real deal. How else would a politician get elected?
The streets ain’t hollywood
Enjoy the movie, but never forget: It's a movie. Life on the street consists in a lot of rejections and hard knocks, but Hollywood likes to soup up the life, make a Cadillac out of a Chevy. I'd love it if I had as many pay days and naked babes as Tony Soprano.
Come to think of it, maybe I should have been an actor.
Thanks to Mr. Mafiosa
I get all sorts of e-mails from you guys asking me about Goodfellas and The Godfather. One guy says, "I love the part when Pesci shoots Spider in the foot over a drink," and then I don't even have to read what comes next. The guy writes: "Does that kind of stuff really happen, man?"
Of course, the guy hopes that I will respond as follows: "Oh yeah! We have guys shooting each other in the foot all the time. I once stabbed a guy for breaking wind at the dinner table. Boy, if I had a nickel for every time I..."
Come on guys, get serious. We don't shoot each other every few hours. We want to apply pressure to our customers, not gunshot wounds. I got news for you: These mob movies are entertaining and cinematically satisfying, kind of like a good cigar, but there are a few flaws in the logic, capisce? As much as the Hollywood babbos get wrong, though, here's a few of the things they got right.
Whack the boss and you’ll get whacked
In Goodfellas, Pesci kills a made guy and later gets killed for his insubordination.
That's right: Bosses bite back. Tommy whacks Batts, Tommy gets whacked. Gross insubordination rarely goes unpunished. I don't care what organization you're in; if you take out a top guy without it being sanctioned by the management, expect retribution. We love guys who break the rules, as long as it happened 30 years ago. As for those in the present who disrespect the status quo, just read a newspaper: The world hates them.
Keep a low profile
In The Untouchables, Capone thinks he has the world on a string, and Costner snips his fantasy.
You can't fight City Hall. Capone tried to run Chicago, and he almost did. But there's always a Dudley Do-Right growing up somewhere, some little bugger who had too much baseball and apple pie. I'm talking about Eliot Ness. Guys like him restore the world to a plausible degree of corruption. This happened in New York not that long ago, with guys like Rudy Giuliani taking down the Gotti boys. If you're a wiseguy, you have to stay under the radar and not attract the attention of chattering newsmen. The world appreciates a certain amount of underground; problems only arise when the underground starts peeking into the daylight. Unless the thugs expect a revolution, they need to check their ambition and be content to rule quietly.
Always be skeptical
Pacino backs out of a billion-dollar deal because it doesn't smell right.
Talk is cheap. Remember The Godfather? Sure you do -- your e-mails are testimony to that. When Michael Corleone goes to Cuba, he's about to enter a billion-dollar deal with a bunch of glad-handers who say, " Havana is it, baby, we're gonna be filthy rich." Michael is skeptical, and they say, "Hey, don't worry, it's all worked out. Have a drink!". A day later, the government falls to a young man named Castro. The lesson here? Get the information. Don't get sweet-talked without seeing every angle. Do your homework and don't let a room full of clever suits outweigh common sense.
You have no friends
In Miller's Crossing, Gabriel Byrne says very coldly to a friend, "Friendship's got nothing to do with it."
And he's right. In many adult situations, decisions have to transcend friendship; otherwise, you get bogged down in mediocrity. Good organizations rely less on friendship than on impartial rules of order. When the time comes for a promotion, there's a good chance you'll be pitted against a friend, and as you step on his head to climb the ladder, remember to say, "Sorry, pal, it's nothin' personal."
You can’t be Mr. Nice Guy
In Casino, De Niro compares two muffins, one with a lot of blueberries and one with very few. He calls the cook onto the carpet and says, "I want the same number of blueberries in every muffin." The cook argues, "Do you know how long that's going to take?" De Niro says, "I don't care."
Somebody's got to be the asshole. In Casino, De Niro plays an anal-retentive jerk who is obsessed with perfection in his work. He seems to go overboard, but unfortunately, running a tight ship requires a disciplinarian. Take a look at sports teams and classrooms or just go into a McDonald's; it's easy to tell where the management is working. In a perfect world, we'd have nice, soft conversations, and everyone would work hard for eight hours and go home to a family meal. The truth is, people shirk, they screw around, and they like to eat out. On a side note, it's good to have a complimentary manager to offset the "cruel" manager. Giving the underlings someone they can talk to will help morale. Nobody wants to be a doormat.
Never believe you’re invincible
In Road to Perdition, Tom Hanks is a mob enforcer on the run. Just when he thinks he's safe, he gets smoked.
What goes around comes around. You live by the sword, you die by the sword. That punk kid you roughed up way back when? He will remember you until the day he dies. There's a good example of this in Road to Perdition, when the enforcer gets a taste of his own lead medicine. Treachery never goes out of style. No matter how strong you feel, there is always someone stronger or someone who knows where the chink is in your armor. Domination never lasts forever, so it's best to keep that in mind when you have power and control. That's what they called the "wheel of fortune" before it became a game show. Things change, often much faster than you'd like.
Keep your home in order
In Goodfellas, Henry Hill goes off snorting coke with his mistress while his home falls to pieces.
If you live a secret life and expect to have an orderly homebody wife to put up with it and wait back at the ranch to serve your every need, then in addition to "in sickness and in health," you might as well add "crazy" to your wedding vows. It's one thing to stray -- as any man may do. It's another to outright neglect your responsibilities to your home.
You have to gain people’s trust
In Donnie Brasco, Pacino puts his trust in someone who seems like a stand-up guy, but is really a narc.
You are who you say you are. Trust is something that is earned, and usually the best liar is the most trusted person. That's why guys like Donnie Brasco can infiltrate their enemies. Think about it: How do you gain trust? Really, all you have to do is make a sequence of consistent appearances, and pretty soon people will start to believe you’re the real deal. How else would a politician get elected?
The streets ain’t hollywood
Enjoy the movie, but never forget: It's a movie. Life on the street consists in a lot of rejections and hard knocks, but Hollywood likes to soup up the life, make a Cadillac out of a Chevy. I'd love it if I had as many pay days and naked babes as Tony Soprano.
Come to think of it, maybe I should have been an actor.
Thanks to Mr. Mafiosa
FBI Has Mole within Chicago Mob
Friends of ours: Michael "Mickey" Marcello, James "Little Jimmy" Marcello
For 20 years, the FBI has had an informant in the Chicago Outfit who apparently is a "made" member and has taken part in major crimes, according to a court filing in a federal prosecution of top mobsters.
The information is in a court motion by lawyers for Michael "Mickey" Marcello, the half-brother of Chicago's reputed mob boss, James "Little Jimmy" Marcello. Attorneys Catharine O'Daniel and Arthur Nasser want the 2005 indictment against Michael Marcello dismissed because of the FBI's continued reliance on the informant.
The major federal prosecution involving 18 mob-related killings allegedly involving top organized crime figures is scheduled for trial in May.
In their motion, the defense attorneys blast the government for allegedly "cavorting with and protecting a 'made mob member' who still must be active in the commission of 'mob' criminal activities."
"No court should sanction the government's use of ... a past and current made member of the 'Chicago Outfit' as a confidential informant in this case," the motion argues.
A spokesman for the U.S. attorney's office in Chicago had no comment on the defense filing.
The defense attorneys do not try to guess the identity of the informant. He's referred to in court papers as CI-1 and is part of a sworn statement by an FBI agent in 2002 that asks for court permission to tape the conversations of James Marcello when he receives guests in the visiting room at the federal prison in Milan, Mich.
The defense motion appears to make some assumptions based on the FBI agent's affidavit. It assumes the informant is a so-called "made" member based on his associations with top mobsters and his criminal activity with them. And it assumes that the FBI is still using the person, even though the affidavit is four years old.
Nasser, Michael Marcello's attorney, declined to comment on the filing.
Michael Marcello also wants barred from use at trial any tape and video recordings made when he was talking to his brother in the prison visiting room.
The Chicago Sun-Times first reported on the contents of some of those conversations in February 2005. The brothers talked about the benefits of a proposal to legalize video gambling in Illinois as well as the progress of the federal case against Michael Marcello, who at the time was out of jail.
James Marcello's questions about the investigation were nothing more than "brotherly concern," according to Michael Marcello's motion.
Thanks to Steve Warmbir
For 20 years, the FBI has had an informant in the Chicago Outfit who apparently is a "made" member and has taken part in major crimes, according to a court filing in a federal prosecution of top mobsters.
The information is in a court motion by lawyers for Michael "Mickey" Marcello, the half-brother of Chicago's reputed mob boss, James "Little Jimmy" Marcello. Attorneys Catharine O'Daniel and Arthur Nasser want the 2005 indictment against Michael Marcello dismissed because of the FBI's continued reliance on the informant.
The major federal prosecution involving 18 mob-related killings allegedly involving top organized crime figures is scheduled for trial in May.
In their motion, the defense attorneys blast the government for allegedly "cavorting with and protecting a 'made mob member' who still must be active in the commission of 'mob' criminal activities."
"No court should sanction the government's use of ... a past and current made member of the 'Chicago Outfit' as a confidential informant in this case," the motion argues.
A spokesman for the U.S. attorney's office in Chicago had no comment on the defense filing.
The defense attorneys do not try to guess the identity of the informant. He's referred to in court papers as CI-1 and is part of a sworn statement by an FBI agent in 2002 that asks for court permission to tape the conversations of James Marcello when he receives guests in the visiting room at the federal prison in Milan, Mich.
The defense motion appears to make some assumptions based on the FBI agent's affidavit. It assumes the informant is a so-called "made" member based on his associations with top mobsters and his criminal activity with them. And it assumes that the FBI is still using the person, even though the affidavit is four years old.
Nasser, Michael Marcello's attorney, declined to comment on the filing.
Michael Marcello also wants barred from use at trial any tape and video recordings made when he was talking to his brother in the prison visiting room.
The Chicago Sun-Times first reported on the contents of some of those conversations in February 2005. The brothers talked about the benefits of a proposal to legalize video gambling in Illinois as well as the progress of the federal case against Michael Marcello, who at the time was out of jail.
James Marcello's questions about the investigation were nothing more than "brotherly concern," according to Michael Marcello's motion.
Thanks to Steve Warmbir
Chicago Mobster is FBI Mole Charges Defense Lawyers
Friends of ours: James "Little Jimmy" Marcello, Michael "Mickey" Marcello
The federal prosecution of organized crime figures in Chicago for 18 mob-related slayings has revealed the presence of an FBI mole, a report contends.
A court motion filed by lawyers for the half-brother of reputed Chicago mob boss, James "Little Jimmy" Marcello, says that for 20 years the FBI has had an informant in the Chicago mob who apparently is a "made" member, Chicago's Daily Southtown reports.
Lawyers for Michael "Mickey" Marcello are asking that the 2005 indictment against him be dismissed because of the FBI's continued reliance on an informant who allegedly has taken part in major crimes.
The defense attorneys criticize the government for what they contend was "cavorting with and protecting a 'made mob member' who still must be active in the commission of 'mob' criminal activities."
"No court should sanction the government's use of ... a past and current member of the 'Chicago Outfit' as a confidential informant in this case," the defense motion argued.
A spokesman for the U.S. attorney's office in Chicago had no comment on the defense filing.
The federal prosecution of organized crime figures in Chicago for 18 mob-related slayings has revealed the presence of an FBI mole, a report contends.
A court motion filed by lawyers for the half-brother of reputed Chicago mob boss, James "Little Jimmy" Marcello, says that for 20 years the FBI has had an informant in the Chicago mob who apparently is a "made" member, Chicago's Daily Southtown reports.
Lawyers for Michael "Mickey" Marcello are asking that the 2005 indictment against him be dismissed because of the FBI's continued reliance on an informant who allegedly has taken part in major crimes.
The defense attorneys criticize the government for what they contend was "cavorting with and protecting a 'made mob member' who still must be active in the commission of 'mob' criminal activities."
"No court should sanction the government's use of ... a past and current member of the 'Chicago Outfit' as a confidential informant in this case," the defense motion argued.
A spokesman for the U.S. attorney's office in Chicago had no comment on the defense filing.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
The Departed Trailer
Even after seeing this movie twice already, I would go see it a 3rd time. It is highly recommended.
The Departed is set in South Boston, where the state police force is waging war on organized crime. Young undercover cop Billy Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio) is assigned to infiltrate the mob syndicate run by gangland chief Costello (Jack Nicholson). While Billy is quickly gaining Costello's confidence, Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon), a hardened young criminal who has infiltrated the police department as an informer for the syndicate, is rising to a position of power in the Special Investigation Unit. Each man becomes deeply consumed by his double life, gathering information about the plans and counter-plans of the operations he has penetrated. But when it becomes clear to both the gangsters and the police that there's a mole in their midst, Billy and Colin are suddenly in danger of being caught and exposed to the enemy -- and each must race to uncover the identity of the other man in time to save himself.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Vote Early and Often, It's the Chicago Way
I am reminded by some readers that Jason Tabour, a "friend of ours" is running for the 1st Congressional District of Illinois.
Jason would appreciate your vote.
Jason would appreciate your vote.
Mobster's Granddauther, "Not Qualified", "Not Recommended", Still a Judge
Friends of ours: Jackie "The Lackey" Cerone, Tony "Big Tuna" Accardo, Donald "The Wizard of Odds" Angelini
Jill Cerone Marisie, the granddaughter of the late convicted mobster Jackie "The Lackey" Cerone, is about to be elected a Cook County judge from the 13th Subcircuit. A Republican from Inverness, she has no opposition in next week's election and will proceed directly to the bench.
Although the Chicago Council of Lawyers found her "not qualified" and the Chicago Bar Association, citing insufficient legal experience, said she was "not recommended," Marisie won the primary anyway against four other male opponents.
Her grandfather was a major mob henchman for the late Anthony "Big Tuna" Accardo and an associate of mobster Donald "The Wizard of Odds" Angelini. No one suggests Marisie or her father, Jack P. Cerone, is an operative of organized crime. There is, however, a certain family pride in the patriarch. Photos of Jackie the Lackey are prominently featured at his son's suburban restaurants.
Mob connections have been an issue in the November election. Alexi Giannoulias, Democratic candidate for state treasurer, has been grilled about loans his family's Broadway Bank has given to convicted mob associates though the loans were not illegal. Giannoulias' brother George is a donor to the Marisie campaign.
State Sen. Wendell Jones (R-Palatine) also supports Marisie, saying he checked her out and found her "outstanding."
Being a judge in Illinois is virtually a job for life. Not one judge in 10 years has lost a bid for retention, so Marisie could have a long career. Though I never succeeded in reaching her, I was curious about a couple of things. Among her campaign donors are individuals with familiar last names. One of them is "Accardo." Another is "Angelini."
I'd love to know more.
Thanks to Carol Marin
Jill Cerone Marisie, the granddaughter of the late convicted mobster Jackie "The Lackey" Cerone, is about to be elected a Cook County judge from the 13th Subcircuit. A Republican from Inverness, she has no opposition in next week's election and will proceed directly to the bench.
Although the Chicago Council of Lawyers found her "not qualified" and the Chicago Bar Association, citing insufficient legal experience, said she was "not recommended," Marisie won the primary anyway against four other male opponents.
Her grandfather was a major mob henchman for the late Anthony "Big Tuna" Accardo and an associate of mobster Donald "The Wizard of Odds" Angelini. No one suggests Marisie or her father, Jack P. Cerone, is an operative of organized crime. There is, however, a certain family pride in the patriarch. Photos of Jackie the Lackey are prominently featured at his son's suburban restaurants.
Mob connections have been an issue in the November election. Alexi Giannoulias, Democratic candidate for state treasurer, has been grilled about loans his family's Broadway Bank has given to convicted mob associates though the loans were not illegal. Giannoulias' brother George is a donor to the Marisie campaign.
State Sen. Wendell Jones (R-Palatine) also supports Marisie, saying he checked her out and found her "outstanding."
Being a judge in Illinois is virtually a job for life. Not one judge in 10 years has lost a bid for retention, so Marisie could have a long career. Though I never succeeded in reaching her, I was curious about a couple of things. Among her campaign donors are individuals with familiar last names. One of them is "Accardo." Another is "Angelini."
I'd love to know more.
Thanks to Carol Marin
Disbarred Attorney Who Claimed Mob Elected JFK Dies
As the Kennedy clan maneuvered to get JFK elected president, they turned to the Chicago mob for help -- and disbarred Chicago attorney Robert McDonnell helped the two sides connect, according to a controversial 1997 book by investigative reporter Seymour Hersh.
Mr. McDonnell
, according to The Dark Side of Camelot, helped arrange a secret meeting between the future president's father, Joseph Kennedy, and then-Chicago mob boss Sam Giancana. A deal was supposedly struck, with the mob helping turn out the vote.
Much later, Mr. McDonnell married Giancana's blunt-spoken daughter, Antoinette, who today doesn't necessarily buy the story.
Regardless, she allowed that Mr. McDonnell certainly had "a colorful past," which included stints as a World War II soldier, a prosecutor and a criminal defense attorney. It was in the latter profession that he often was in the news, representing some fearful figures such as alleged mob murderer "Mad Sam" DeStefano.
Despite expressing concern over the years that he might get whacked, when Mr. McDonnell died on Oct. 29, it was from natural causes, his family said. He was 81.
"He liked to live on the edge -- much to the chagrin of my mother and myself," said Mr. McDonnell's brother Greg. "My brother was a rogue, but he was a good rogue."
Mr. McDonnell was raised on the South Side around 82nd and Wood, said his brother. His mother was a housewife; his father worked for a family contracting business. Mr. McDonnell attended St. Ignatius High School, where he played football. He went to the University of Notre Dame and played football there, too, but left before graduating. World War II was under way, and Mr. McDonnell "went to the draft board and said, 'Take my number,' " his brother said.
He ended up as an Army infantry squad leader and was shot several times after helping overtake a German machine gun nest in Italy. A German medic helped treat him, and Mr. McDonnell later intervened on the medic's behalf after the German was captured by Americans and was going to be killed by them, Greg McDonnell said. He was awarded a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart, his brother said.
After returning to the U.S., Mr. McDonnell finished school and got a law degree. He served as a Cook County prosecutor before becoming a criminal defense attorney.
He embraced the fast life, especially drinking and gambling, but life wasn't always pleasant. When his River Forest home burned in 1960, he reportedly went into hiding, fearing the blaze was started by the mob. Mr. McDonnell served prison time for trying to bribe a union official, and he was twice disbarred.
Services have been held.
Thanks to Robert C. Herguth
Mr. McDonnell
, according to The Dark Side of Camelot, helped arrange a secret meeting between the future president's father, Joseph Kennedy, and then-Chicago mob boss Sam Giancana. A deal was supposedly struck, with the mob helping turn out the vote.Much later, Mr. McDonnell married Giancana's blunt-spoken daughter, Antoinette, who today doesn't necessarily buy the story.
Regardless, she allowed that Mr. McDonnell certainly had "a colorful past," which included stints as a World War II soldier, a prosecutor and a criminal defense attorney. It was in the latter profession that he often was in the news, representing some fearful figures such as alleged mob murderer "Mad Sam" DeStefano.
Despite expressing concern over the years that he might get whacked, when Mr. McDonnell died on Oct. 29, it was from natural causes, his family said. He was 81.
"He liked to live on the edge -- much to the chagrin of my mother and myself," said Mr. McDonnell's brother Greg. "My brother was a rogue, but he was a good rogue."
Mr. McDonnell was raised on the South Side around 82nd and Wood, said his brother. His mother was a housewife; his father worked for a family contracting business. Mr. McDonnell attended St. Ignatius High School, where he played football. He went to the University of Notre Dame and played football there, too, but left before graduating. World War II was under way, and Mr. McDonnell "went to the draft board and said, 'Take my number,' " his brother said.
He ended up as an Army infantry squad leader and was shot several times after helping overtake a German machine gun nest in Italy. A German medic helped treat him, and Mr. McDonnell later intervened on the medic's behalf after the German was captured by Americans and was going to be killed by them, Greg McDonnell said. He was awarded a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart, his brother said.
After returning to the U.S., Mr. McDonnell finished school and got a law degree. He served as a Cook County prosecutor before becoming a criminal defense attorney.
He embraced the fast life, especially drinking and gambling, but life wasn't always pleasant. When his River Forest home burned in 1960, he reportedly went into hiding, fearing the blaze was started by the mob. Mr. McDonnell served prison time for trying to bribe a union official, and he was twice disbarred.
Services have been held.
Thanks to Robert C. Herguth
Persico/DeRoss Trial Ends in Mistrial
Friends of ours: Colombo Crime Family, Alphonse "Allie Boy" Persico, Carmine Persico, John DeRoss
After a five-week trial, a Brooklyn federal judge ordered a mistrial Friday in the racketeering case against reputed Colombo crime family mobsters Alphonse Persico and John DeRoss when the jury indicated it was deadlocked.
Judge Sterling Johnson terminated the trial after the panel, in its fifth day of deliberations, sent out a note about 2:30 p.m. saying it could not reach a verdict despite a final try at unanimity. "The jury is deadlocked on all counts. We take the opportunity to apologize to the court," jurors said in the note to Johnson.
Three women on the jury dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs as Johnson thanked all of them for their service. "Some matters can't be resolved," Johnson said in an apparent attempt to console those who were upset.
Sarita Kedia, Persico's attorney, said, "I had hoped for an acquittal given the evidence in this case, but it seems better than the alternative."
Persico, 52, who is known as "Allie Boy" and is the son of imprisoned legendary mobster Carmine Persico, once was considered by law enforcement officials to be the acting boss of the Colombo family. Since late September, he and DeRoss, 69, had been on trial on charges they were involved in the disappearance and presumed slaying of cohort William Cutolo in 1999. Cutolo was considered a rising star in the crime family when he vanished.
Persico and DeRoss also faced other charges involving crime family rackets. Both defendants remained in custody, as they already are serving sentences in other federal cases.
Assistant U.S. Attorney Tom Seigel said he plans to pursue a retrial, which would not occur until 2007.
Strong indications of a mistrial emerged Thursday when a flurry of notes from the jury showed at least one juror didn't believe the various cooperating witnesses called by the government. Another note suggested three jurors were voting as a bloc, but it wasn't clear if they were for acquittal or conviction.
The mistrial was the second time recently that federal prosecutors in the city have been stymied in getting a conviction in a high-profile mob case. Last month, in federal court in Manhattan, a mistrial was declared in the racketeering trial of John A. Gotti, the son of the late Gambino crime boss John J. Gotti. It was the third mistrial in that case. The U.S. attorney's office in Manhattan said it would not seek another trial.
Thanks to Anthony M. DeStefano
After a five-week trial, a Brooklyn federal judge ordered a mistrial Friday in the racketeering case against reputed Colombo crime family mobsters Alphonse Persico and John DeRoss when the jury indicated it was deadlocked.
Judge Sterling Johnson terminated the trial after the panel, in its fifth day of deliberations, sent out a note about 2:30 p.m. saying it could not reach a verdict despite a final try at unanimity. "The jury is deadlocked on all counts. We take the opportunity to apologize to the court," jurors said in the note to Johnson.
Three women on the jury dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs as Johnson thanked all of them for their service. "Some matters can't be resolved," Johnson said in an apparent attempt to console those who were upset.
Sarita Kedia, Persico's attorney, said, "I had hoped for an acquittal given the evidence in this case, but it seems better than the alternative."
Persico, 52, who is known as "Allie Boy" and is the son of imprisoned legendary mobster Carmine Persico, once was considered by law enforcement officials to be the acting boss of the Colombo family. Since late September, he and DeRoss, 69, had been on trial on charges they were involved in the disappearance and presumed slaying of cohort William Cutolo in 1999. Cutolo was considered a rising star in the crime family when he vanished.
Persico and DeRoss also faced other charges involving crime family rackets. Both defendants remained in custody, as they already are serving sentences in other federal cases.
Assistant U.S. Attorney Tom Seigel said he plans to pursue a retrial, which would not occur until 2007.
Strong indications of a mistrial emerged Thursday when a flurry of notes from the jury showed at least one juror didn't believe the various cooperating witnesses called by the government. Another note suggested three jurors were voting as a bloc, but it wasn't clear if they were for acquittal or conviction.
The mistrial was the second time recently that federal prosecutors in the city have been stymied in getting a conviction in a high-profile mob case. Last month, in federal court in Manhattan, a mistrial was declared in the racketeering trial of John A. Gotti, the son of the late Gambino crime boss John J. Gotti. It was the third mistrial in that case. The U.S. attorney's office in Manhattan said it would not seek another trial.
Thanks to Anthony M. DeStefano
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Mob Boss Dies
Michael Genovese was one of the last links to a lost era - an old-school mob boss who the law never caught up with.
The head of the western Pennsylvania La Cosa Nostra is dead.
By all accounts, mob informants, FBI agents and the now-defunct Pennsylvania Crime Commission, Genovese was the don of the Pittsburgh mob. An old-style mob boss who ran one of 24 original mafia families in the U.S. that trace their roots back to Sicily.
Gambling, narcotics, loan sharking, even murder were all linked to the Genovese mob. But Geneovese was never indicted - never sent to prison.
Several of his underbosses - including Chuckie Porter, Lou Ruicci and other mob lieutenants - were all convicted in a federal trial in the 1990s. But they never brought charges against the reputed mob boss.
Genovese is reported to have been suffering from bladder cancer and heart disease. He was 87 years old and died in his sleep.
The U.S. Attorney's office in Pittsburgh declined comment on Genovese's death. In the past, the U.S. Attorney has said that the mob trials of the 1990s severely weakened mafia influence in the Pittsburgh area.
The head of the western Pennsylvania La Cosa Nostra is dead.
By all accounts, mob informants, FBI agents and the now-defunct Pennsylvania Crime Commission, Genovese was the don of the Pittsburgh mob. An old-style mob boss who ran one of 24 original mafia families in the U.S. that trace their roots back to Sicily.
Gambling, narcotics, loan sharking, even murder were all linked to the Genovese mob. But Geneovese was never indicted - never sent to prison.
Several of his underbosses - including Chuckie Porter, Lou Ruicci and other mob lieutenants - were all convicted in a federal trial in the 1990s. But they never brought charges against the reputed mob boss.
Genovese is reported to have been suffering from bladder cancer and heart disease. He was 87 years old and died in his sleep.
The U.S. Attorney's office in Pittsburgh declined comment on Genovese's death. In the past, the U.S. Attorney has said that the mob trials of the 1990s severely weakened mafia influence in the Pittsburgh area.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
The Sting
Winner of seven Academy Awards including Best Picture, Director, and Screenplay, this critical and box-office hit from 1973 provided a perfect reunion for director George Roy Hill and stars Paul Newman and Robert Redford, who previously delighted audiences with Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
Set in 1936, the movie's about a pair of Chicago con artists (Newman and Redford) who find themselves in a high-stakes game against the master of all cheating mobsters (Robert Shaw) when they set out to avenge the murder of a mutual friend and partner. Using a bogus bookie joint as a front for their con of all cons, the two feel the heat from the Chicago Mob on one side and encroaching police on the other. But in a plot that contains more twists than a treacherous mountain road, the ultimate scam is pulled off with consummate style and panache. It's an added bonus that Newman and Redford were box-office kings at the top of their game, and while Shaw broods intensely as the Runyonesque villain, The Sting is further blessed by a host of great supporting players including Dana Elcar, Eileen Brennan, Ray Walston, Charles Durning, and Harold Gould.
Thanks to the flavorful music score by Marvin Hamlisch, this was also the movie that sparked a nationwide revival of Scott Joplin's ragtime jazz, which is featured prominently on the soundtrack. One of the most entertaining movies of the early 1970s, The Sting is a welcome throwback to Hollywood's golden age of the '30s that hasn't lost any of its popular charm.
Thanks to Jeff Shannon
Set in 1936, the movie's about a pair of Chicago con artists (Newman and Redford) who find themselves in a high-stakes game against the master of all cheating mobsters (Robert Shaw) when they set out to avenge the murder of a mutual friend and partner. Using a bogus bookie joint as a front for their con of all cons, the two feel the heat from the Chicago Mob on one side and encroaching police on the other. But in a plot that contains more twists than a treacherous mountain road, the ultimate scam is pulled off with consummate style and panache. It's an added bonus that Newman and Redford were box-office kings at the top of their game, and while Shaw broods intensely as the Runyonesque villain, The Sting is further blessed by a host of great supporting players including Dana Elcar, Eileen Brennan, Ray Walston, Charles Durning, and Harold Gould.
Thanks to the flavorful music score by Marvin Hamlisch, this was also the movie that sparked a nationwide revival of Scott Joplin's ragtime jazz, which is featured prominently on the soundtrack. One of the most entertaining movies of the early 1970s, The Sting is a welcome throwback to Hollywood's golden age of the '30s that hasn't lost any of its popular charm.
Thanks to Jeff Shannon
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Bonanno's Baldo Gets Life in Prison for Murders
Friends of ours: Baldassare "Baldo" Amato, Bonanno Crime Family
Friends of mine: Sebastiano DiFalco, Robert Perrino
Baldassare Amato, a powerful Bonanno crime family figure who represents the group’s traditional Sicilian roots, stood silently with his arms crossed yesterday as a federal judge denounced him and meted out a life sentence for two 1992 Mafia murders.
As the judge, Nicholas G. Garaufis of United States District Court in Brooklyn, tore into him for “using murder as a business tactic,” at several points Mr. Amato raised his right hand to his chin and then crossed his arms again in front of his chest. “Mr. Amato,” said the judge, making no effort to mask his disgust, “you’re just a plain, wanton murderer and a Mafia assassin. The sentence I’m going to give you, as far as I’m concerned, is a gift.”
Mr. Amato, 54, dressed in a gray prison sweatshirt and khaki trousers, appeared unmoved when the judge handed down the life sentence, almost as though it were a cost of doing business. He and his lawyer had both declined to address the court.
After pronouncing the sentence, Judge Garaufis asked the lead prosecutor in the case, Assistant United States Attorney John Buretta, how much of a fine he could levy. Mr. Buretta said the maximum was $250,000, and the judge levied it.
Mr. Amato, who is known as Baldo and who immigrated to New York from the Sicilian fishing village of Castellammare del Golfo when he was 18, was convicted on July 12 of racketeering conspiracy charges, including the murders of two Bonanno associates.
The jury concluded that he ordered the murder of restaurant owner Sebastiano DiFalco and carried out a second killing himself, shooting Robert Perrino in the head several times.
Prosecutors had presented evidence that the Bonanno family was concerned that Mr. Perrino, a delivery supervisor for The New York Post, might help expose an infiltration of The Post’s delivery operation by the crime family.
The judge said that Mr. DiFalco was killed “possibly because Mr. Amato and his Mafia colleagues wanted to take over the business and they might have had a disagreement over price or some other detail.”
The six-week trial was a primer on the devastation that federal prosecutors in Brooklyn have wrought on the Bonannos, cutting a swath through the family’s ranks and upending its traditions with a growing cadre of informers.
Mr. Amato was also stoical when Judge Garaufis rejected a request by his lawyer, Diarmuid White, for a recommendation that he be sent to a prison in the New York area so his family could visit. “It’s for them, your honor,” Mr. White said of the family.
The judge was unmoved.
“I have compassion for the defendant’s family, and I also have compassion for the members of the families of Sebastiano DiFalco and Robert Perrino,” the judge said. “This defendant made it certain that they would never visit their family member, anywhere.”
Mr. DiFalco’s two nephews were in court yesterday and said they were gratified by the life sentence and the fine against Mr. Amato. “He’s a cold and evil person,” said one of them, Sal Montoro, 42. He said Mr. Amato had gone to their uncle’s wake and vowed to help find the killer.
For Mr. Amato, after the sentence was handed down, it was a brisk, businesslike handshake and a small smile for his lawyer, and he walked out the courtroom’s side door to the holding cells, accompanied by United States marshals.
Thanks to William Rashbaum
Friends of mine: Sebastiano DiFalco, Robert Perrino
Baldassare Amato, a powerful Bonanno crime family figure who represents the group’s traditional Sicilian roots, stood silently with his arms crossed yesterday as a federal judge denounced him and meted out a life sentence for two 1992 Mafia murders.
As the judge, Nicholas G. Garaufis of United States District Court in Brooklyn, tore into him for “using murder as a business tactic,” at several points Mr. Amato raised his right hand to his chin and then crossed his arms again in front of his chest. “Mr. Amato,” said the judge, making no effort to mask his disgust, “you’re just a plain, wanton murderer and a Mafia assassin. The sentence I’m going to give you, as far as I’m concerned, is a gift.”
Mr. Amato, 54, dressed in a gray prison sweatshirt and khaki trousers, appeared unmoved when the judge handed down the life sentence, almost as though it were a cost of doing business. He and his lawyer had both declined to address the court.
After pronouncing the sentence, Judge Garaufis asked the lead prosecutor in the case, Assistant United States Attorney John Buretta, how much of a fine he could levy. Mr. Buretta said the maximum was $250,000, and the judge levied it.
Mr. Amato, who is known as Baldo and who immigrated to New York from the Sicilian fishing village of Castellammare del Golfo when he was 18, was convicted on July 12 of racketeering conspiracy charges, including the murders of two Bonanno associates.
The jury concluded that he ordered the murder of restaurant owner Sebastiano DiFalco and carried out a second killing himself, shooting Robert Perrino in the head several times.
Prosecutors had presented evidence that the Bonanno family was concerned that Mr. Perrino, a delivery supervisor for The New York Post, might help expose an infiltration of The Post’s delivery operation by the crime family.
The judge said that Mr. DiFalco was killed “possibly because Mr. Amato and his Mafia colleagues wanted to take over the business and they might have had a disagreement over price or some other detail.”
The six-week trial was a primer on the devastation that federal prosecutors in Brooklyn have wrought on the Bonannos, cutting a swath through the family’s ranks and upending its traditions with a growing cadre of informers.
Mr. Amato was also stoical when Judge Garaufis rejected a request by his lawyer, Diarmuid White, for a recommendation that he be sent to a prison in the New York area so his family could visit. “It’s for them, your honor,” Mr. White said of the family.
The judge was unmoved.
“I have compassion for the defendant’s family, and I also have compassion for the members of the families of Sebastiano DiFalco and Robert Perrino,” the judge said. “This defendant made it certain that they would never visit their family member, anywhere.”
Mr. DiFalco’s two nephews were in court yesterday and said they were gratified by the life sentence and the fine against Mr. Amato. “He’s a cold and evil person,” said one of them, Sal Montoro, 42. He said Mr. Amato had gone to their uncle’s wake and vowed to help find the killer.
For Mr. Amato, after the sentence was handed down, it was a brisk, businesslike handshake and a small smile for his lawyer, and he walked out the courtroom’s side door to the holding cells, accompanied by United States marshals.
Thanks to William Rashbaum
Godfather of All My Tours
Friends of ours: Carlo Gambino Aniello "The Hat" Dellacore, Joe Columbo, Vito Genovese, Salvatore "Lucky" Luciano, "One Lung" Curran, Owney "The Killer" Madden, Vincent "Mad Dog" Coll, Ray Matorno, John "Dapper Don" Gotti, Albert Anastasia
The best place to start mixing with The Mob is in St John's Cemetery out on Long Island. This is where the Mafia Dons of New York are buried.
Beneath their sepulchres and towering granite angles lie the bodies of such notorious mobsters as Carlo Gambino and Aniello "The Hat" Dellacore. A few tombstones away are the vaults of Joe Columbo, Vito Genovese and , Salvatore "Lucy" Luciano.
They each headed one of the Families -- the euphemistic name for the gangs who ruled New York -- with the ruthlessness of medieval monarchs. Today they remain identifiable entities only through their names carved in wood and stone. But there is not so much as a chisel mark to commemorate their links -- and fights -- with that other great Mob, the Irish Mafia. Born in the early 19th century out of street gangs protecting and exploiting immigrants from the Old Country, by the arrival of Prohibition the Irish Mafia had become a powerful player in bootlegging -- and all the crimes that went with it: burglarising shops, dominating pool halls, stealing from the docks.
No racket was too small for the Irish Mafia. And like their Italian counterparts, the Irish Bosses attracted colourful names: "One Lung" Curran, Owney "The Killer" Madden, Vincent "Mad Dog" Coll.
Hard drinking, flashily dressed and always a girl on their arms, they extended the Irish Mob's influence to all the major US cities. Many of the great crimes were laid at their door. One was the Pottsville Heist, when half a million dollars was stolen in a Philadelphia bank robbery by the K&K gang in 1974. Its members were Irish born Americans, many of them blue-collar workers and the gang had become a powerful player in gambling, loan sharking and mass thievery across the State.
By the 1980s they had moved into drugs. Thirty-six K&K members were arrested. One fled to Dublin. But the gang still thrived. In 2003, its then leader, Ray Matorno, plotted to remove the Italian Mafia's hold over the Philadelphia underworld. He brought in a dozen hitmen for the coming war. But before he could issue the time-honoured order "time to go to the mattresses", he was gunned down on his way to keep a doctor's appointment. His physician was quoted as saying: "The amount of led he took would have required a foundry to plug all the holes".
To visit St John's cemetery is to step back in your mind's eye to the days of the G-men, Tommy-guns and Omerta -- the code of silence of Cosa Nostra, the generic name for the Families. It was this the Irish mafia has continued to subscribe to.
Strolling through St John's I sensed that look of surprise which must have crossed the face of Carlo, head of the Gambino family, as he had left the Brooklyn apartment of one of his mistresses in July 1972 -- to be shot dead as he entered his chauffeured car.
The roll call of names is the history of the Italian Mob in New York. Some died in harness. Most succumbed to a bullet in the head. Their silent tombs don't distinguish. But for those who want a social history of a different kind, a visit to St John's is a starting point for a journey back in time -- one that spawned probably more classic gangster movies than any other genre.
The Irish Mafia sprang on to the screen with a series of film noir movies in the 1940s starring super stars of their day like James Cagney, Spencer Tracey and Pat O'Brien. They became known in Hollywood as "the screen Irish Mafia". You can still catch them on late night movie screenings of, "Angels With Dirty Faces" (1938) in which Cagney returns to New York's Hells Kitchen to reclaim his right as the area's Irish Gang Boss; or "The Racket" (1928) where Thomas Meighan plays an Irish Chicago police officer taking on the local criminal syndicate. And don't forget the "St Valentine's Day Massacre" (1967) that captures the mood of the turbulent Thirties for the Irish Mafia as well as any gangster movie. Right up to "Brotherhood" (2006) the relationships, and influence, of the Irish gangs are caught on screen.
Among the gravestones at St John's cemetery you remember the voices of other stars who played the mobsters: George Raft as the head of a Family; Mickey Rooney, the swaggering hit-man for another; Marlon Brando in his greatest of all roles, "The Godfather".
Here in the graveyard, with the wind whistling in from the Atlantic and the distant sound of planes coming and going from Kennedy Airport, you can conjure up again those memorable words of Brando: "I'll make you an offer you can't refuse."
I'll make you a promise, spend a morning in St John's and you won't regret it. Here they are, the bad and the ugly, the fat and the profane, rich beyond dream. And most venerated -- at least within the closed world of the Mafia -- is the godfather of them all. The Gangster they called the "Dapper Don".
To the untold millions who have watched the movie trilogy, The Godfather, he was the inspiration for the memorable role Marlon Brando created. The "Don of Dons" was feared even from within the prison -- but a life-without-parole-prison-cell -- where he died in June 2002. He was ten years into his sentence, and the cancer finally did what no bullet had been able to do.
All it says below the brass cross on the polished wooden door to vault 341, Aisle C in the cemetery is "GOTTI". Below this word that once instilled terror throughout New York are the words: "John 1940-2002".
Born into an era when the Mob ruled New York, Gotti was given a funeral that has not been seen since those days.
Many of his peers ended their lives in New York's East River or out somewhere beyond the Statue of Liberty. Weighed down with their feet encased in concrete blocks, or iron bars welded around their waists. But instead of being laid to rest with the fishes, Gotti was carried in his hand-polished coffin through the streets of New York's Little Italy. His hearse was festooned with wreaths in the shape of horses' heads (Gotti was a great gambler); a giant cigar (one was always in his mouth); a winning hand of cards and a champagne glass (his favourite game and tipple).
The drive from the funeral home to the cemetery where he now lies in his air-conditioned vault takes about ten minutes.
For those who want to recreate the drive, a New York cabbie will oblige. Or you can do it in style, renting a gangland style white Cadillac from one of the firms which specialises in unusual tours. They're listed in the New York Yellow Pages.
Viewers of the smash-hit TV show, The Sopranos, will recognise some of the places en route to the cemetery.
There is Russo's Ice Cream Bar and Vincent's Original Clam Shop (both are close to 85th Street at 160th). Here you can sample some of the best ice cream in a Little Italy that prides itself on serving an unbeatable selection of iced confections. Or, if you fancy something more substantial, Vincent's clams are as juicy and perfectly cooked as you will find anywhere. Both places were where Gotti liked to sit with his hitmen, his accountants, and the lieutenants who ran his rackets.
Most mornings he would stroll down from his home at 160011 85th Street, his bodyguards fanned out around him, jackets bulging with guns. It must have been a scene no movie director could better.
Gotti's home is small for a man with such a huge appetite for everything criminal. It's a wood and brick fronted bungalow in Cape Cod style. The only unusual addition is the huge satellite dish on the roof, and the state-of-the-art security camera covering the front door and windows.
Gotti ran his operations from an office behind the city's Old St Patrick's, New York's first Roman Catholic cathedral. It was also the setting for the christening at which Michael takes up his duties at the end of The Godfather. The scene was recreated in a studio. But many a future Mobster was christened at the cathedral font.
Gotti's actual headquarters was at 247 Mulberry Street, just south of its junction with Prince Street. On almost any day you can see some of his men strolling along the pavement, their destination is often Umberto's Clam House. It's one of the best in Little Italy. The waiter will take your picture at one of the tables the Dapper Don like to sit at.
A slow walk away -- everyone in Little Italy seems to have that special not-quite-a-stroll way of moving -- is Mare Chiaro, at 176 Mulberry Street. The bar has been in the family for almost a century. It's also one of those places that will instantly be recognisable to anyone who has seen such movies as Kojak with Telly Savales, or Contract On Cherry Street with Frank Sinatra.
As you sip an ice cold beer you can listen to Old Blue Eyes belting it out on the jukebox in the corner. The time to go is mid-evening. The place then seems filled with characters who could have stepped out of any Mobster movie: hard-faced men and their over-painted women exchange rapid-fire dialogue few movies have ever captured.
Sparks Steak House at 210 East 46th Street has some of the best meat in town. But to eat like a Godfather you can expect to pay $100 a head -- and then comes the tip. You forget that extra 15% and you would be wise not to return.
As well as fine food Sparks is part of Mafia folklore. It was on the kerb outside that Paul Castellano, then the "Don of Dons", was assassinated on a pleasant day in 1985 by his own bodyguard -- John Gotti. Locals still walk carefully around the place where the body fell. To walk over the spot is deemed to be bad luck.
Over in Hells Kitchen, west of Time Square, is Druids on 10th Avenue. This was the headquarters of the Westies, the gang who became immortalised on film as the Goodfellas. The bar staff will tell you the bar was the place of countless murders -- and that at the end of every night their Mobster clients would always smash their glasses to destroy any evidence of fingerprints.
One evening so the story goes, a mobster took a head from a hatbox and rolled it down the bar. As it passed each drinker, he poured his beer over the head. True? Who knows? When you take a tour of the Mafia sites, it becomes hard to know what is real and what has been actually created on film.
Remember all those scenes in the old movies where a gangster is shot dead in a barber's chair? Well it did happen, more than once, in the barber's shop in the Park Sheraton Hotel at Seventh Avenue on 55th Street.
The most famous victim was Albert Anastasia who ruled Murder Incorporated until that day when a hitman shot him while he was being shaved.
The chair is still there. But the barber doesn't like to discuss it. Those days are gone, he will smile.
Maybe. But the flavour of that period still remains. And there is no better way to sample it than the New York City Mafia Tour Guide. Read it in your hotel room while watching the original Godfather. Then go out and see how many locations you can spot. It's fun -- and a rewarding way to get to know the city that never sleeps -- and where many a Mafia mobster rests, if not in peace, at least in that magnificently ornate cemetery at St John's, where the shadow of the Irish Mob hangs over their tombs.
Thanks to Gordon Thomas
The best place to start mixing with The Mob is in St John's Cemetery out on Long Island. This is where the Mafia Dons of New York are buried.
Beneath their sepulchres and towering granite angles lie the bodies of such notorious mobsters as Carlo Gambino and Aniello "The Hat" Dellacore. A few tombstones away are the vaults of Joe Columbo, Vito Genovese and , Salvatore "Lucy" Luciano.
They each headed one of the Families -- the euphemistic name for the gangs who ruled New York -- with the ruthlessness of medieval monarchs. Today they remain identifiable entities only through their names carved in wood and stone. But there is not so much as a chisel mark to commemorate their links -- and fights -- with that other great Mob, the Irish Mafia. Born in the early 19th century out of street gangs protecting and exploiting immigrants from the Old Country, by the arrival of Prohibition the Irish Mafia had become a powerful player in bootlegging -- and all the crimes that went with it: burglarising shops, dominating pool halls, stealing from the docks.
No racket was too small for the Irish Mafia. And like their Italian counterparts, the Irish Bosses attracted colourful names: "One Lung" Curran, Owney "The Killer" Madden, Vincent "Mad Dog" Coll.
Hard drinking, flashily dressed and always a girl on their arms, they extended the Irish Mob's influence to all the major US cities. Many of the great crimes were laid at their door. One was the Pottsville Heist, when half a million dollars was stolen in a Philadelphia bank robbery by the K&K gang in 1974. Its members were Irish born Americans, many of them blue-collar workers and the gang had become a powerful player in gambling, loan sharking and mass thievery across the State.
By the 1980s they had moved into drugs. Thirty-six K&K members were arrested. One fled to Dublin. But the gang still thrived. In 2003, its then leader, Ray Matorno, plotted to remove the Italian Mafia's hold over the Philadelphia underworld. He brought in a dozen hitmen for the coming war. But before he could issue the time-honoured order "time to go to the mattresses", he was gunned down on his way to keep a doctor's appointment. His physician was quoted as saying: "The amount of led he took would have required a foundry to plug all the holes".
To visit St John's cemetery is to step back in your mind's eye to the days of the G-men, Tommy-guns and Omerta -- the code of silence of Cosa Nostra, the generic name for the Families. It was this the Irish mafia has continued to subscribe to.
Strolling through St John's I sensed that look of surprise which must have crossed the face of Carlo, head of the Gambino family, as he had left the Brooklyn apartment of one of his mistresses in July 1972 -- to be shot dead as he entered his chauffeured car.
The roll call of names is the history of the Italian Mob in New York. Some died in harness. Most succumbed to a bullet in the head. Their silent tombs don't distinguish. But for those who want a social history of a different kind, a visit to St John's is a starting point for a journey back in time -- one that spawned probably more classic gangster movies than any other genre.
The Irish Mafia sprang on to the screen with a series of film noir movies in the 1940s starring super stars of their day like James Cagney, Spencer Tracey and Pat O'Brien. They became known in Hollywood as "the screen Irish Mafia". You can still catch them on late night movie screenings of, "Angels With Dirty Faces" (1938) in which Cagney returns to New York's Hells Kitchen to reclaim his right as the area's Irish Gang Boss; or "The Racket" (1928) where Thomas Meighan plays an Irish Chicago police officer taking on the local criminal syndicate. And don't forget the "St Valentine's Day Massacre" (1967) that captures the mood of the turbulent Thirties for the Irish Mafia as well as any gangster movie. Right up to "Brotherhood" (2006) the relationships, and influence, of the Irish gangs are caught on screen.
Among the gravestones at St John's cemetery you remember the voices of other stars who played the mobsters: George Raft as the head of a Family; Mickey Rooney, the swaggering hit-man for another; Marlon Brando in his greatest of all roles, "The Godfather".
Here in the graveyard, with the wind whistling in from the Atlantic and the distant sound of planes coming and going from Kennedy Airport, you can conjure up again those memorable words of Brando: "I'll make you an offer you can't refuse."
I'll make you a promise, spend a morning in St John's and you won't regret it. Here they are, the bad and the ugly, the fat and the profane, rich beyond dream. And most venerated -- at least within the closed world of the Mafia -- is the godfather of them all. The Gangster they called the "Dapper Don".
To the untold millions who have watched the movie trilogy, The Godfather, he was the inspiration for the memorable role Marlon Brando created. The "Don of Dons" was feared even from within the prison -- but a life-without-parole-prison-cell -- where he died in June 2002. He was ten years into his sentence, and the cancer finally did what no bullet had been able to do.
All it says below the brass cross on the polished wooden door to vault 341, Aisle C in the cemetery is "GOTTI". Below this word that once instilled terror throughout New York are the words: "John 1940-2002".
Born into an era when the Mob ruled New York, Gotti was given a funeral that has not been seen since those days.
Many of his peers ended their lives in New York's East River or out somewhere beyond the Statue of Liberty. Weighed down with their feet encased in concrete blocks, or iron bars welded around their waists. But instead of being laid to rest with the fishes, Gotti was carried in his hand-polished coffin through the streets of New York's Little Italy. His hearse was festooned with wreaths in the shape of horses' heads (Gotti was a great gambler); a giant cigar (one was always in his mouth); a winning hand of cards and a champagne glass (his favourite game and tipple).
The drive from the funeral home to the cemetery where he now lies in his air-conditioned vault takes about ten minutes.
For those who want to recreate the drive, a New York cabbie will oblige. Or you can do it in style, renting a gangland style white Cadillac from one of the firms which specialises in unusual tours. They're listed in the New York Yellow Pages.
Viewers of the smash-hit TV show, The Sopranos, will recognise some of the places en route to the cemetery.
There is Russo's Ice Cream Bar and Vincent's Original Clam Shop (both are close to 85th Street at 160th). Here you can sample some of the best ice cream in a Little Italy that prides itself on serving an unbeatable selection of iced confections. Or, if you fancy something more substantial, Vincent's clams are as juicy and perfectly cooked as you will find anywhere. Both places were where Gotti liked to sit with his hitmen, his accountants, and the lieutenants who ran his rackets.
Most mornings he would stroll down from his home at 160011 85th Street, his bodyguards fanned out around him, jackets bulging with guns. It must have been a scene no movie director could better.
Gotti's home is small for a man with such a huge appetite for everything criminal. It's a wood and brick fronted bungalow in Cape Cod style. The only unusual addition is the huge satellite dish on the roof, and the state-of-the-art security camera covering the front door and windows.
Gotti ran his operations from an office behind the city's Old St Patrick's, New York's first Roman Catholic cathedral. It was also the setting for the christening at which Michael takes up his duties at the end of The Godfather. The scene was recreated in a studio. But many a future Mobster was christened at the cathedral font.
Gotti's actual headquarters was at 247 Mulberry Street, just south of its junction with Prince Street. On almost any day you can see some of his men strolling along the pavement, their destination is often Umberto's Clam House. It's one of the best in Little Italy. The waiter will take your picture at one of the tables the Dapper Don like to sit at.
A slow walk away -- everyone in Little Italy seems to have that special not-quite-a-stroll way of moving -- is Mare Chiaro, at 176 Mulberry Street. The bar has been in the family for almost a century. It's also one of those places that will instantly be recognisable to anyone who has seen such movies as Kojak with Telly Savales, or Contract On Cherry Street with Frank Sinatra.
As you sip an ice cold beer you can listen to Old Blue Eyes belting it out on the jukebox in the corner. The time to go is mid-evening. The place then seems filled with characters who could have stepped out of any Mobster movie: hard-faced men and their over-painted women exchange rapid-fire dialogue few movies have ever captured.
Sparks Steak House at 210 East 46th Street has some of the best meat in town. But to eat like a Godfather you can expect to pay $100 a head -- and then comes the tip. You forget that extra 15% and you would be wise not to return.
As well as fine food Sparks is part of Mafia folklore. It was on the kerb outside that Paul Castellano, then the "Don of Dons", was assassinated on a pleasant day in 1985 by his own bodyguard -- John Gotti. Locals still walk carefully around the place where the body fell. To walk over the spot is deemed to be bad luck.
Over in Hells Kitchen, west of Time Square, is Druids on 10th Avenue. This was the headquarters of the Westies, the gang who became immortalised on film as the Goodfellas. The bar staff will tell you the bar was the place of countless murders -- and that at the end of every night their Mobster clients would always smash their glasses to destroy any evidence of fingerprints.
One evening so the story goes, a mobster took a head from a hatbox and rolled it down the bar. As it passed each drinker, he poured his beer over the head. True? Who knows? When you take a tour of the Mafia sites, it becomes hard to know what is real and what has been actually created on film.
Remember all those scenes in the old movies where a gangster is shot dead in a barber's chair? Well it did happen, more than once, in the barber's shop in the Park Sheraton Hotel at Seventh Avenue on 55th Street.
The most famous victim was Albert Anastasia who ruled Murder Incorporated until that day when a hitman shot him while he was being shaved.
The chair is still there. But the barber doesn't like to discuss it. Those days are gone, he will smile.
Maybe. But the flavour of that period still remains. And there is no better way to sample it than the New York City Mafia Tour Guide. Read it in your hotel room while watching the original Godfather. Then go out and see how many locations you can spot. It's fun -- and a rewarding way to get to know the city that never sleeps -- and where many a Mafia mobster rests, if not in peace, at least in that magnificently ornate cemetery at St John's, where the shadow of the Irish Mob hangs over their tombs.
Thanks to Gordon Thomas
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Police & Rats Balanced in Departed
Martin Scorsese sure knows how to have a kick-ass time.
After a few years of unsuccessfully trying to win Oscars, Scorsese returned to his roots: violent men inhabiting mean streets. It seems to work for him. With "The Departed," he has made a more confident, self-assured film than his previous epic, award-begging vehicles "Gangs of New York" or "The Aviator." Ironically, this film is now a prize contender.
A remake of the Hong Kong film "Infernal Affairs," "The Departed" faces the same challenges that face all adaptations: finding a balance between keeping a similar plot line and an original take on the story.
Much of this balance is accomplished through the film's setting. This time, South Boston's Irish working-class communities are the backdrop. Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon) and Billy Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio) are graduates of the police academy. Sullivan is invited into the upper echelon of the force while secretly informing Frank Costello's (Jack Nicholson) Irish mafia. Costigan does the reverse, informing the police while working within Costello's mob.
Nobody likes a rat in their circle. Police Chief Queenan (Martin Sheen) and Costello (Nicholson) each realize they have one, but flounder trying to find who it is.
Scorsese slowly lowers us into this brilliant set-up, allowing it to increasingly envelop the viewer as he raises the stakes. Loyalties are constantly shifting, and there is no easy moralizing of any character's plight or superiority.
The idea of the informant is nothing new. During a house call, a clip of John Ford's exemplary "The Informer" plays in the background. In the Irish cultural tradition of both films, informing is the most despicable thing a man could do, punishable by an execution carried out by former friends. The sides of the battle have to remain clear if either side is to succeed.
In this world, there is no guarantee of safety, regardless of which side you are on. At the beginning of the film, the Rolling Stones' hit "Gimme Shelter" blasting, Costello tells a young Sullivan that it doesn't matter whether you're in the police or the mafia when there's a gun in your face. In that moment, we all become the departed.
Sides may not matter, but morals and honor do. The double lives that Sullivan and Costigan live rips them apart and affects all aspects of their lives. DiCaprio's performance is more exterior and more successful, as viewers watch him quickly transformed from clean-cut cop to dirty, drug-dealing gangster. Damon may have the girlfriend (up-and-comer Vera Farmiga) and the cash, but he is no more at peace than DiCaprio. The world of the informer is never enjoyable; he always looks over his shoulder for someone out to get him.
Scorsese was one of the directors propagating the realism movement to the multiplexes during the Hollywood renaissance of the early- to mid-1970s. He works within this genre better than most, and films of his, such as "Taxi Driver," stand the test of time as indelible character sketches set against fascinating modern situations. In a particularly heated moment, Nicholson screams at one of his thugs, "This ain't reality TV!" But, in style and essence, it is—"The Departed" subscribes to the 21st century's incarnation of the cult of realism.
Realism does not assure success, however. As entertaining as these double-crossings are, "The Departed" does not linger in the mind for very long. Violence begets violence, but one has a sense leaving the theater that "The Departed" leaves the whole world blind with nothing to show for it.
Thanks to Mike Nugent
After a few years of unsuccessfully trying to win Oscars, Scorsese returned to his roots: violent men inhabiting mean streets. It seems to work for him. With "The Departed," he has made a more confident, self-assured film than his previous epic, award-begging vehicles "Gangs of New York" or "The Aviator." Ironically, this film is now a prize contender.
A remake of the Hong Kong film "Infernal Affairs," "The Departed" faces the same challenges that face all adaptations: finding a balance between keeping a similar plot line and an original take on the story.
Much of this balance is accomplished through the film's setting. This time, South Boston's Irish working-class communities are the backdrop. Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon) and Billy Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio) are graduates of the police academy. Sullivan is invited into the upper echelon of the force while secretly informing Frank Costello's (Jack Nicholson) Irish mafia. Costigan does the reverse, informing the police while working within Costello's mob.
Nobody likes a rat in their circle. Police Chief Queenan (Martin Sheen) and Costello (Nicholson) each realize they have one, but flounder trying to find who it is.
Scorsese slowly lowers us into this brilliant set-up, allowing it to increasingly envelop the viewer as he raises the stakes. Loyalties are constantly shifting, and there is no easy moralizing of any character's plight or superiority.
The idea of the informant is nothing new. During a house call, a clip of John Ford's exemplary "The Informer" plays in the background. In the Irish cultural tradition of both films, informing is the most despicable thing a man could do, punishable by an execution carried out by former friends. The sides of the battle have to remain clear if either side is to succeed.
In this world, there is no guarantee of safety, regardless of which side you are on. At the beginning of the film, the Rolling Stones' hit "Gimme Shelter" blasting, Costello tells a young Sullivan that it doesn't matter whether you're in the police or the mafia when there's a gun in your face. In that moment, we all become the departed.
Sides may not matter, but morals and honor do. The double lives that Sullivan and Costigan live rips them apart and affects all aspects of their lives. DiCaprio's performance is more exterior and more successful, as viewers watch him quickly transformed from clean-cut cop to dirty, drug-dealing gangster. Damon may have the girlfriend (up-and-comer Vera Farmiga) and the cash, but he is no more at peace than DiCaprio. The world of the informer is never enjoyable; he always looks over his shoulder for someone out to get him.
Scorsese was one of the directors propagating the realism movement to the multiplexes during the Hollywood renaissance of the early- to mid-1970s. He works within this genre better than most, and films of his, such as "Taxi Driver," stand the test of time as indelible character sketches set against fascinating modern situations. In a particularly heated moment, Nicholson screams at one of his thugs, "This ain't reality TV!" But, in style and essence, it is—"The Departed" subscribes to the 21st century's incarnation of the cult of realism.
Realism does not assure success, however. As entertaining as these double-crossings are, "The Departed" does not linger in the mind for very long. Violence begets violence, but one has a sense leaving the theater that "The Departed" leaves the whole world blind with nothing to show for it.
Thanks to Mike Nugent
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Daughter of Late Mobster Arrested
Friends of ours: Albert Tocco, Clarence Crockett
The daughter of a former Southland mob lieutenant has been charged with stealing from a Frankfort country club.
Chicago Heights resident Sandra M. Andrade, 40, is the daughter of the late Clarence Crockett, a trusted aide of longtime Southland mob boss Albert Tocco, according to police and public records.
Andrade "obtained unauthorized control" of property valued at less than $100,000 at Prestwick Country Club between Dec. 29 and April 30, according to the charges. She is being held on $65,000 bail. An assistant public defender has been appointed to represent her.
Frankfort police refused to explain the charges, saying it's an ongoing investigation. "(Investigators) were hoping to talk to her, but they didn't have that chance," police Cmdr. John Burica said.
A spokesman for the Will County state's attorney's office also declined to comment, as did Prestwick's manager and an attorney for the country club.
The home address Andrade gave police is a single-story brick house on Campbell Avenue owned by Rose Crockett, who was identified as her mother. A phone message left there Wednesday was not returned.
Clarence Crockett for many years was involved in collecting the mob's "street tax," monthly payments to be allowed to operate illegal businesses, as a key aide to Tocco -- whom federal prosecutors later linked to nine murders, although he was never convicted in any slaying, according to news reports.
Crockett was convicted in 1989 with Tocco on federal racketeering, conspiracy and extortion charges and received a 20-year prison term. He was released in 2001 and died in March at 68.
Tocco received a 200-year sentence in 1990. His wife, Betty, was a key witness against him, testifying about his alleged involvement in the infamous murders of the Spilotro brothers who were shot and buried in an Indiana field. Tocco died of a stroke in prison 13 months ago at 76.
Federal prosecutors also went after a former mayor, three city councilmen and the deputy police chief of Chicago Heights. All were convicted on corruption charges.
Will County sheriff's police spokesman Pat Barry, a former sheriff's investigator who worked on the Crockett case, said the mob ran Chicago Heights for decades. "There was corruption from top to bottom," he said.
Today, people say the mob largely has been rooted out of Chicago Heights. When asked to comment about Crockett, Police Chief Anthony Murphy offered these words: "He's dead."
Thanks to Steve Schmadeke
The daughter of a former Southland mob lieutenant has been charged with stealing from a Frankfort country club.
Chicago Heights resident Sandra M. Andrade, 40, is the daughter of the late Clarence Crockett, a trusted aide of longtime Southland mob boss Albert Tocco, according to police and public records.
Andrade "obtained unauthorized control" of property valued at less than $100,000 at Prestwick Country Club between Dec. 29 and April 30, according to the charges. She is being held on $65,000 bail. An assistant public defender has been appointed to represent her.
Frankfort police refused to explain the charges, saying it's an ongoing investigation. "(Investigators) were hoping to talk to her, but they didn't have that chance," police Cmdr. John Burica said.
A spokesman for the Will County state's attorney's office also declined to comment, as did Prestwick's manager and an attorney for the country club.
The home address Andrade gave police is a single-story brick house on Campbell Avenue owned by Rose Crockett, who was identified as her mother. A phone message left there Wednesday was not returned.
Clarence Crockett for many years was involved in collecting the mob's "street tax," monthly payments to be allowed to operate illegal businesses, as a key aide to Tocco -- whom federal prosecutors later linked to nine murders, although he was never convicted in any slaying, according to news reports.
Crockett was convicted in 1989 with Tocco on federal racketeering, conspiracy and extortion charges and received a 20-year prison term. He was released in 2001 and died in March at 68.
Tocco received a 200-year sentence in 1990. His wife, Betty, was a key witness against him, testifying about his alleged involvement in the infamous murders of the Spilotro brothers who were shot and buried in an Indiana field. Tocco died of a stroke in prison 13 months ago at 76.
Federal prosecutors also went after a former mayor, three city councilmen and the deputy police chief of Chicago Heights. All were convicted on corruption charges.
Will County sheriff's police spokesman Pat Barry, a former sheriff's investigator who worked on the Crockett case, said the mob ran Chicago Heights for decades. "There was corruption from top to bottom," he said.
Today, people say the mob largely has been rooted out of Chicago Heights. When asked to comment about Crockett, Police Chief Anthony Murphy offered these words: "He's dead."
Thanks to Steve Schmadeke
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Top Ten Signs You're Watching A Bad Mafia Movie
10. Takes place on the mean streets of Appleton, Wisconsin9. The fake blood is clearly Yoo-Hoo
8. Someone is given an offer he has the option of refusing
7. Directed by Martin Scorsese...'s brother Larry
6. When mobsters try to dump body in Jersey, they sit in traffic at the tunnel for 90 minutes
5. Instead of horse's head, informant wakes up with a delicious chocolate on his pillow
4. Punishment for snitching: No X-Box for a week
3. Boss keeps using the catchphrase, "Don't Hassel the Hoff"
2. Feds use wiretap to get famous vegetarian lasagna recipe
1. Only whacking is done by Mark Foley
Argus on Junior
New York prosecutors announced Friday they won't prosecute John Gotti Junior a fourth time after failing three previous times to convict him on racketeering charges. The first three trials ended in hung juries. That's enough casualties.
Detroit Tiger Kenny Rogers rubbed illegal pine tar on the ball as he pitched on Sunday. Instead of suspending him, the umpire told him to wash his hands. John Gotti Junior got the umpire's name and put him in his future jury foremen file.
Detroit Tiger Kenny Rogers rubbed illegal pine tar on the ball as he pitched on Sunday. Instead of suspending him, the umpire told him to wash his hands. John Gotti Junior got the umpire's name and put him in his future jury foremen file.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Brewer Shadowed by Mob Heritage
A ceramic bust of a Windy City mobster stares from behind the candlelit bar at Aldente Cafe and Lounge. His hollow gaze is cast in the direction of a black-and-white photograph of himself stirring a pot of sauce. Below the likeness of the late Jackie "the Lackey" Cerone, rows of bottles stamped with Iron City Beer's red label glisten in a cooler.
The connection between the beer and the bust might seem obscure, but the link is Jack P. Cerone, 66, of Des Plaines, Ill., the publicity-shy mobster's son. His family owns the Lincoln Park restaurant and he might soon own a major stake in the bankrupt Pittsburgh Brewing Co.
By all accounts
, Jack P. Cerone is not a member of La Cosa Nostra. Some critics, however, contend he has done little to distance himself from the fearsome reputation his father earned as a protege of Anthony "Big Tuna" Accardo, one of the powerful bosses of the Chicago Outfit in the 1950s.
Jackie "the Lackey" Cerone ran the Chicagoland mob in the late 1960s, six steps removed from the immortal Al Capone. His term ended in 1986 when he was sentenced to 28 years in prison for his role in skimming more than $2 million from Las Vegas casinos. The scam was the basis for the blockbuster motion picture "Casino."
"His father's name would still carry weight in Chicago," said John Flood, a former Chicago-area law enforcement official and organized crime expert. "Everybody knew Jackie Cerone. He was a big-time Chicago mobster."
Jack P. Cerone denied repeated attempts to be interviewed for this article. Pittsburgh Brewing President Joseph R. Piccirilli has said he hired Cerone in the late 1990s to negotiate a labor contract, but he has declined to detail their relationship. "He heard of him because he's a labor lawyer? Maybe," said Jim Wagner, president of the Chicago Crime Commission. "But he probably more heard of him because of his father and the mob connection."
Stake in Iron City
Details about Jack P
. Cerone's transformation from labor lawyer to financial stakeholder in the brewery are emerging in Pittsburgh Brewing's ongoing bankruptcy. Court records show Jack P. Cerone holds the lucrative trademark rights to Iron City, IC Light and Augustiner brands as well as minority ownership in the company.
Jack P. Cerone's financial involvement began three years ago, when he paid $1.5 million to purchase two brewery loans worth about $6 million. Collateral on the loans included 20 percent ownership in Pittsburgh Brewing and the trademark rights. But his stake in the 145-year-old Lawrenceville brewery could increase substantially. The company filed a recovery plan last week that could increase Jack P. Cerone's ownership stake to 40 percent and his claim against Pittsburgh Brewing to $8 million.
Brewing in Greater Pittsburgh (Images of America).
The brewery now must persuade its creditors and U.S. Bankruptcy Judge M. Bruce McCullough to accept the plan for Jack P. Cerone to maximize his investment
. "The company would have to succeed with the current ownership in place for him to get all of his money," said George Sharkey, business agent for the International Union of Electrical Workers of America Local 144b, which represents Pittsburgh Brewing's bottlers.
Should the brewery fail, Jack P. Cerone might be in position to sell the brands to recoup his money. The value of the three flagship brews has been bandied about between $3 million and $4 million, said attorney Michael Healey, who represents Pittsburgh Brewery's unions. He said he is not aware of any formal appraisal of the trademark rights. Selling trademarks is an option, said Carol Horton Tremblay, an economics professor at Oregon State University and co-author of "The U.S. Brewing Industry: Data and Economic Analysis."
In May, Anheuser-Busch Cos. bought the rights to brew Rolling Rock beer for $82 million. The pride of Latrobe, Westmoreland County, is now brewed in New Jersey. "But Pittsburgh Brewing Co
. today isn't even Pittsburgh Brewing Co.." of old, said Robert S. Weinberg, 79, a St. Louis-based beer industry consultant, "much less a Latrobe. ... There's always a renaissance, but I think there's a point beyond which brands can be resurrected -- and I think they're beyond that."
Kenneth Elzinga, a University of Virginia economics professor and beer industry expert, agreed. "The odds for the economic redemption of a medium-size, regional brewery producing a mainstream lager beer are not good," Elzinga said. "Most brewing firms in the United States that survive or prosper are either very large, and can exploit economies of scale, or small, and can tap into the market for special tastes and preferences. Pittsburgh Brewing is not well positioned to do either."
A private family man
While his involvement in Pittsburgh Brewing has raised Jack P. Cerone's public profile, he apparently prefers to stay out of the limelight. He graduated from Illinois Benedictine College in Lisle, Ill., then earned a law degree from DePaul University in Chicago in 1964. He joined the Chicago Bar Association in 1965 and once served as president of the Justinian Society of Lawyers of Illinois, a Chicago-based association of Italian-American attorneys.
Friends and colleagues refused to comment.
Jack P. Cerone and his wife, Judy, have five children.
Daughter Jill C. Marisie, a Republican, is running uncontested in November for a Cook County, Ill., circuit judgeship. She was admitted to the Illinois bar in 1990 and has worked as a state prosecutor.
Son Jack runs two restaurants in Chicago -- the Rat Pack-themed II Jack's, named after father and son, and Aldente, which is replete with large photos plucked from the family album. The late Jackie Cerone is included in many of the oversized, black-and-white images -- either cooking or posing with family and friends.
Some people consider Jack P. Cerone as the real owner of the restaurants, which he has called "his" when inviting people to dine there.
In August, eight employees of a former Frank Sinatra tribute music venue, Rizzo's Live in downtown Chicago, filed a lawsuit that claimed Jack P. Cerone owes them almost $100,000 in back wages. The federal lawsuit claims he was the sole financier and controlled the business -- even though he is not listed on paper as the club owner.
The Chicago Sun-Times reported notable visitors of the popular Chicago nightspot included Dean Martin's daughter, Gail, and Federico Castelluccio, who played hit-man Furio Giunta on "The Sopranos."
"I don't know of any information received that put him in business with any (mobsters) here in Chicago, other than associating with his father and friends of his father," said Wagner, of the Crime Commission. "But there's a difference between just associating and trading off the reputation -- and I think for a while that's what he was doing."
Jack P. Cerone will not publicly discuss his father. His only published comments came in a newspaper article following Jackie Cerone's death in 1996 -- six days after being released from federal prison in Florida due to bad health. "He was a gambler, a bookmaker all his life and he ran a tavern," Jack P. Cerone told the Chicago Tribune. "He loved to be around people. He was my best friend. Whatever he did he did and kept that to himself."
Fighting for unions
Jack P. Cerone earned a reputation as a labor lawyer, fighting for union workers in numerous contract fights with Chicago city officials -- from the 1980s when he fought for Laborer garbage collectors and seasonal street cleaners to the late 1990s when he salvaged victory for the Decorators Union in a trade show row.
When Piccirilli brought him in, even union representatives said his presence helped. "He certainly knows more about the bargaining process than Joe Piccirilli, and that's no shot at Joe," said Ken Ream, international representative of the International Union of Electrical Workers.
Ream and others describe Jack P. Cerone as professional but tough. "You can tell he's been around the negotiation table before," said Sharkey, the union business agent. "He's worked both sides of the fence. He's worked for the unions, for companies and as an arbitrator."
Cutting ties
A 1986 report by the President's Commission on Organized Crime identified Jack P. Cerone as one of three sons of well-known mobsters working for Laborers-International Local 8 in Chicago. "You're talking about the old Chicago mob and their sons," said former FBI Special Agent Peter J. Wacks, who investigated the Chicago mob for 30 years and helped convict the late Jackie Cerone. "They all end up working for the same union. Doesn't that seem odd?"
Court-ordered sanctions forced labor unions to cut ties with people connected to organized crime. One casualty was Jack P. Cerone, who had business dealings with Teamsters and Laborers unions. His company, Marble Insurance Agency, lost union contracts in 1993 because of his ties to organized crime, according to a 2004 Teamsters report.
In 1995, Jack P. Cerone, saying he was not a mobster, filed a federal lawsuit claiming he'd been improperly severed from his business relationships. A district court judge rejected the claim a year later, saying Jack P. Cerone "knowingly associated with his father." The court said the union's actions "were not only appropriate, but were mandated by (an) obligation ... to rid itself of the corruption influence of organized crime," the report stated. "There's no release from that," said Wagner of the Crime Commission. "It's a permanent ban." But Jack P. Cerone's associations with organized crime figures weren't limited to his father, investigators say. Wagner said Jack P. Cerone socialized with mobsters. Wacks, of the FBI, said surveillance showed Jack P. Cerone arranging and sometimes attending meetings with "made men and top guys."
Members of the Chicago mob met at the Brookwood Country Club. According to an affidavit of a former FBI agent, some of these meetings involved the late Jackie Cerone.
At one time, the country club was owned -- in part -- by Jack P. Cerone. A jury in 1989 ordered DuPage County officials to pay Jack P. Cerone and other owners more than $10 million for the 116-acre golf course and driving range. The county took the property through condemnation because nearly a quarter of it was flood plain.
Until Jack P. Cerone's name surfaced this year in connection with the Pittsburgh Brewing bankruptcy, Chicago investigators said they hadn't heard his name in years. "His profile here has been very, very low key," Wagner said, "perhaps by choice."
Thanks to Jason Cato
The connection between the beer and the bust might seem obscure, but the link is Jack P. Cerone, 66, of Des Plaines, Ill., the publicity-shy mobster's son. His family owns the Lincoln Park restaurant and he might soon own a major stake in the bankrupt Pittsburgh Brewing Co.
By all accounts
, Jack P. Cerone is not a member of La Cosa Nostra. Some critics, however, contend he has done little to distance himself from the fearsome reputation his father earned as a protege of Anthony "Big Tuna" Accardo, one of the powerful bosses of the Chicago Outfit in the 1950s.Jackie "the Lackey" Cerone ran the Chicagoland mob in the late 1960s, six steps removed from the immortal Al Capone. His term ended in 1986 when he was sentenced to 28 years in prison for his role in skimming more than $2 million from Las Vegas casinos. The scam was the basis for the blockbuster motion picture "Casino."
"His father's name would still carry weight in Chicago," said John Flood, a former Chicago-area law enforcement official and organized crime expert. "Everybody knew Jackie Cerone. He was a big-time Chicago mobster."
Jack P. Cerone denied repeated attempts to be interviewed for this article. Pittsburgh Brewing President Joseph R. Piccirilli has said he hired Cerone in the late 1990s to negotiate a labor contract, but he has declined to detail their relationship. "He heard of him because he's a labor lawyer? Maybe," said Jim Wagner, president of the Chicago Crime Commission. "But he probably more heard of him because of his father and the mob connection."
Stake in Iron City
Details about Jack P
. Cerone's transformation from labor lawyer to financial stakeholder in the brewery are emerging in Pittsburgh Brewing's ongoing bankruptcy. Court records show Jack P. Cerone holds the lucrative trademark rights to Iron City, IC Light and Augustiner brands as well as minority ownership in the company.Jack P. Cerone's financial involvement began three years ago, when he paid $1.5 million to purchase two brewery loans worth about $6 million. Collateral on the loans included 20 percent ownership in Pittsburgh Brewing and the trademark rights. But his stake in the 145-year-old Lawrenceville brewery could increase substantially. The company filed a recovery plan last week that could increase Jack P. Cerone's ownership stake to 40 percent and his claim against Pittsburgh Brewing to $8 million.
Brewing in Greater Pittsburgh (Images of America).
The brewery now must persuade its creditors and U.S. Bankruptcy Judge M. Bruce McCullough to accept the plan for Jack P. Cerone to maximize his investment
. "The company would have to succeed with the current ownership in place for him to get all of his money," said George Sharkey, business agent for the International Union of Electrical Workers of America Local 144b, which represents Pittsburgh Brewing's bottlers.Should the brewery fail, Jack P. Cerone might be in position to sell the brands to recoup his money. The value of the three flagship brews has been bandied about between $3 million and $4 million, said attorney Michael Healey, who represents Pittsburgh Brewery's unions. He said he is not aware of any formal appraisal of the trademark rights. Selling trademarks is an option, said Carol Horton Tremblay, an economics professor at Oregon State University and co-author of "The U.S. Brewing Industry: Data and Economic Analysis."
In May, Anheuser-Busch Cos. bought the rights to brew Rolling Rock beer for $82 million. The pride of Latrobe, Westmoreland County, is now brewed in New Jersey. "But Pittsburgh Brewing Co
. today isn't even Pittsburgh Brewing Co.." of old, said Robert S. Weinberg, 79, a St. Louis-based beer industry consultant, "much less a Latrobe. ... There's always a renaissance, but I think there's a point beyond which brands can be resurrected -- and I think they're beyond that."Kenneth Elzinga, a University of Virginia economics professor and beer industry expert, agreed. "The odds for the economic redemption of a medium-size, regional brewery producing a mainstream lager beer are not good," Elzinga said. "Most brewing firms in the United States that survive or prosper are either very large, and can exploit economies of scale, or small, and can tap into the market for special tastes and preferences. Pittsburgh Brewing is not well positioned to do either."
A private family man
While his involvement in Pittsburgh Brewing has raised Jack P. Cerone's public profile, he apparently prefers to stay out of the limelight. He graduated from Illinois Benedictine College in Lisle, Ill., then earned a law degree from DePaul University in Chicago in 1964. He joined the Chicago Bar Association in 1965 and once served as president of the Justinian Society of Lawyers of Illinois, a Chicago-based association of Italian-American attorneys.
Friends and colleagues refused to comment.
Jack P. Cerone and his wife, Judy, have five children.
Daughter Jill C. Marisie, a Republican, is running uncontested in November for a Cook County, Ill., circuit judgeship. She was admitted to the Illinois bar in 1990 and has worked as a state prosecutor.
Son Jack runs two restaurants in Chicago -- the Rat Pack-themed II Jack's, named after father and son, and Aldente, which is replete with large photos plucked from the family album. The late Jackie Cerone is included in many of the oversized, black-and-white images -- either cooking or posing with family and friends.
Some people consider Jack P. Cerone as the real owner of the restaurants, which he has called "his" when inviting people to dine there.
In August, eight employees of a former Frank Sinatra tribute music venue, Rizzo's Live in downtown Chicago, filed a lawsuit that claimed Jack P. Cerone owes them almost $100,000 in back wages. The federal lawsuit claims he was the sole financier and controlled the business -- even though he is not listed on paper as the club owner.
The Chicago Sun-Times reported notable visitors of the popular Chicago nightspot included Dean Martin's daughter, Gail, and Federico Castelluccio, who played hit-man Furio Giunta on "The Sopranos."
"I don't know of any information received that put him in business with any (mobsters) here in Chicago, other than associating with his father and friends of his father," said Wagner, of the Crime Commission. "But there's a difference between just associating and trading off the reputation -- and I think for a while that's what he was doing."
Jack P. Cerone will not publicly discuss his father. His only published comments came in a newspaper article following Jackie Cerone's death in 1996 -- six days after being released from federal prison in Florida due to bad health. "He was a gambler, a bookmaker all his life and he ran a tavern," Jack P. Cerone told the Chicago Tribune. "He loved to be around people. He was my best friend. Whatever he did he did and kept that to himself."
Fighting for unions
Jack P. Cerone earned a reputation as a labor lawyer, fighting for union workers in numerous contract fights with Chicago city officials -- from the 1980s when he fought for Laborer garbage collectors and seasonal street cleaners to the late 1990s when he salvaged victory for the Decorators Union in a trade show row.
When Piccirilli brought him in, even union representatives said his presence helped. "He certainly knows more about the bargaining process than Joe Piccirilli, and that's no shot at Joe," said Ken Ream, international representative of the International Union of Electrical Workers.
Ream and others describe Jack P. Cerone as professional but tough. "You can tell he's been around the negotiation table before," said Sharkey, the union business agent. "He's worked both sides of the fence. He's worked for the unions, for companies and as an arbitrator."
Cutting ties
A 1986 report by the President's Commission on Organized Crime identified Jack P. Cerone as one of three sons of well-known mobsters working for Laborers-International Local 8 in Chicago. "You're talking about the old Chicago mob and their sons," said former FBI Special Agent Peter J. Wacks, who investigated the Chicago mob for 30 years and helped convict the late Jackie Cerone. "They all end up working for the same union. Doesn't that seem odd?"
Court-ordered sanctions forced labor unions to cut ties with people connected to organized crime. One casualty was Jack P. Cerone, who had business dealings with Teamsters and Laborers unions. His company, Marble Insurance Agency, lost union contracts in 1993 because of his ties to organized crime, according to a 2004 Teamsters report.
In 1995, Jack P. Cerone, saying he was not a mobster, filed a federal lawsuit claiming he'd been improperly severed from his business relationships. A district court judge rejected the claim a year later, saying Jack P. Cerone "knowingly associated with his father." The court said the union's actions "were not only appropriate, but were mandated by (an) obligation ... to rid itself of the corruption influence of organized crime," the report stated. "There's no release from that," said Wagner of the Crime Commission. "It's a permanent ban." But Jack P. Cerone's associations with organized crime figures weren't limited to his father, investigators say. Wagner said Jack P. Cerone socialized with mobsters. Wacks, of the FBI, said surveillance showed Jack P. Cerone arranging and sometimes attending meetings with "made men and top guys."
Members of the Chicago mob met at the Brookwood Country Club. According to an affidavit of a former FBI agent, some of these meetings involved the late Jackie Cerone.
At one time, the country club was owned -- in part -- by Jack P. Cerone. A jury in 1989 ordered DuPage County officials to pay Jack P. Cerone and other owners more than $10 million for the 116-acre golf course and driving range. The county took the property through condemnation because nearly a quarter of it was flood plain.
Until Jack P. Cerone's name surfaced this year in connection with the Pittsburgh Brewing bankruptcy, Chicago investigators said they hadn't heard his name in years. "His profile here has been very, very low key," Wagner said, "perhaps by choice."
Thanks to Jason Cato
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Feds Give Up on Junior
Friends of ours: John Gotti, Junior Gotti, Gambino Crime Family
For John A. (Junior) Gotti, the third mistrial was the charm.
Federal prosecutors announced yesterday they will not retry Gotti for racketeering and will abandon efforts to nail him for trying to kill radio host Curtis Sliwa. Manhattan U.S. Attorney Michael Garcia said in a statement that a fourth trial was "not in the interests of justice in light of the three prior hung juries."
That means for the first time in eight years, Gotti, 42, is a free man with no criminal charges hanging over him. That didn't sit well with Sliwa, who vowed to bring a lawsuit against Gotti seeking damages for the 1992 shooting, which allegedly was in retaliation for his on-air attacks on the late Gambino crime boss John Gotti.
"I feel as disappointed as a Mets fan today," Sliwa told the Daily News. "I would have hoped they would have prosecuted him four or five times. But I understand they have to deal with legal technicalities."
Late yesterday afternoon, Gotti - whose father's ability to beat the rap earned him the moniker the Teflon Don - returned to his gated mansion in Oyster Bay Cove, L.I., with one of his sons in a chauffeured sedan, declining to speak to a reporter.
The mob scion has expressed interest in moving out West, returning to school to study child psychology and writing a book, but he needs permission from the feds because he's still on supervised release for his 1998 federal conviction. "He's been talking about plans for the future and now John has the freedom to go on with his life," sister Victoria Gotti said. "His only option, I think, is to get off the [government's] radar and go off and live somewhere else, like the Midwest or down South."
She said the entire Gotti clan is "beat up and tired" after three trials that have taken a heavy emotional toll on her brother. Gotti already had heard the good news on the radio by the time defense lawyer Charles Carnesi reached him. "He was thrilled," Carnesi said. "As much as it was expected, it's still different when you finally have confirmation.
"He wants to leave New York as soon as it can be arranged," Carnesi added.
Sliwa said he's owed monetary damages - "I can't tell you the pain I suffer as a result of the rearrangement of my internal plumbing" - and promised to donate any proceeds to charity. But his lawsuit is probably dead on arrival, legal experts say, for the very same reason the feds failed to convict Gotti - the statute of limitations has passed.
Although the jury in the last mistrial agreed to convict Gotti in the Sliwa attack - which might have created an exception to the one-year statute of limitations for filing a civil suit - there was no verdict because they were hung on the racketeering charge.
Gotti's mother, Victoria, didn't think much of Sliwa's threatened suit. "I think the victims of all his hoaxes should sue him," she said, referring to Sliwa's admissions that he had staged publicity stunts to get media coverage of the Guardian Angels, including a fabricated claim that he had been kidnapped by a city transit cop.
Though Gotti insists he left the Mafia behind in 1999, one law enforcement source said it's "pretty impossible" to believe he's going to move away and go straight. "He sitting on a ton of money which is all ill-gotten gains," the source said. "He knows one life and it's called organized crime. Plus he has to look over his shoulder with the Gambino family because he really upset a lot of people." But mob expert Jerry Capeci said he doesn't think anyone is gunning for Gotti for speaking to prosecutors, which at one point was a serious Mafia no-no. "He never hurt anyone, never became a cooperating witness," Capeci said. "Even though three juries could never agree on whether he quit the mob, his Gambino crime family days are gone, if not forgotten."
Thanks to John Marzulli
For John A. (Junior) Gotti, the third mistrial was the charm.
Federal prosecutors announced yesterday they will not retry Gotti for racketeering and will abandon efforts to nail him for trying to kill radio host Curtis Sliwa. Manhattan U.S. Attorney Michael Garcia said in a statement that a fourth trial was "not in the interests of justice in light of the three prior hung juries."
That means for the first time in eight years, Gotti, 42, is a free man with no criminal charges hanging over him. That didn't sit well with Sliwa, who vowed to bring a lawsuit against Gotti seeking damages for the 1992 shooting, which allegedly was in retaliation for his on-air attacks on the late Gambino crime boss John Gotti.
"I feel as disappointed as a Mets fan today," Sliwa told the Daily News. "I would have hoped they would have prosecuted him four or five times. But I understand they have to deal with legal technicalities."
Late yesterday afternoon, Gotti - whose father's ability to beat the rap earned him the moniker the Teflon Don - returned to his gated mansion in Oyster Bay Cove, L.I., with one of his sons in a chauffeured sedan, declining to speak to a reporter.
The mob scion has expressed interest in moving out West, returning to school to study child psychology and writing a book, but he needs permission from the feds because he's still on supervised release for his 1998 federal conviction. "He's been talking about plans for the future and now John has the freedom to go on with his life," sister Victoria Gotti said. "His only option, I think, is to get off the [government's] radar and go off and live somewhere else, like the Midwest or down South."
She said the entire Gotti clan is "beat up and tired" after three trials that have taken a heavy emotional toll on her brother. Gotti already had heard the good news on the radio by the time defense lawyer Charles Carnesi reached him. "He was thrilled," Carnesi said. "As much as it was expected, it's still different when you finally have confirmation.
"He wants to leave New York as soon as it can be arranged," Carnesi added.
Sliwa said he's owed monetary damages - "I can't tell you the pain I suffer as a result of the rearrangement of my internal plumbing" - and promised to donate any proceeds to charity. But his lawsuit is probably dead on arrival, legal experts say, for the very same reason the feds failed to convict Gotti - the statute of limitations has passed.
Although the jury in the last mistrial agreed to convict Gotti in the Sliwa attack - which might have created an exception to the one-year statute of limitations for filing a civil suit - there was no verdict because they were hung on the racketeering charge.
Gotti's mother, Victoria, didn't think much of Sliwa's threatened suit. "I think the victims of all his hoaxes should sue him," she said, referring to Sliwa's admissions that he had staged publicity stunts to get media coverage of the Guardian Angels, including a fabricated claim that he had been kidnapped by a city transit cop.
Though Gotti insists he left the Mafia behind in 1999, one law enforcement source said it's "pretty impossible" to believe he's going to move away and go straight. "He sitting on a ton of money which is all ill-gotten gains," the source said. "He knows one life and it's called organized crime. Plus he has to look over his shoulder with the Gambino family because he really upset a lot of people." But mob expert Jerry Capeci said he doesn't think anyone is gunning for Gotti for speaking to prosecutors, which at one point was a serious Mafia no-no. "He never hurt anyone, never became a cooperating witness," Capeci said. "Even though three juries could never agree on whether he quit the mob, his Gambino crime family days are gone, if not forgotten."
Thanks to John Marzulli
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