Quantcast
Channel: Mobsters in the News
Viewing all 718 articles
Browse latest View live

Japanese Mafia Splitting Into Separate Crime Groups

$
0
0

Inform

In the past, the group even followed a New Year’s tradition of giving o-toshi-dama to children who came to visit, o-toshi-dama essentially being envelopes full of cash with ornate New Year’s greetings written on them.
A little money buys a lot of good will. And after the Kobe earthquake in 1995 and the great disaster of March 2011, the earthquake and tsunami and Fukushima nuclear reactor meltdown, the Yamaguchi-gumi was quick to provide aid in the form of blankets, food, water, and shelter.
The police label such organizations boryokudan—violent groups—but the Yamaguchi-gumi still insists that it is a humanitarian organization providing discipline and homes to social outcasts, and dispensing street justice. Most of its victims and the police would disagree with that definition.
The Yamaguchi-gumi still insists that it is a humanitarian organization.
It’s not clear when the Yamaguchi-gumi began celebrating Halloween, but Kobe is an international city where, in some neighborhoods, a U.S.-like traditional Halloween has taken root. One Kobe resident in her thirties, who prefers not to be named saying anything related to the Yamaguchi-gumi, tells The Daily Beast she remembers her international school classmates paying Halloween visits to the headquarters even 20 years ago. She says that the first time her classmates went shouting “trick or treat,” the hapless yakuza who answered the doorbell was utterly befuddled. After trying to figure out what to do, he ended up giving each of the children 1000-yen bills ($10) and told them to go away.
And thus, perhaps, a tradition began.
The Yamaguchi-gumi, like any corporation that has lasted over 100 years, is certainly PR savvy. The official policy of the organization is to give no on-the-record interviews by active members. However, the organization allows yakuza fanzines to photograph events and in October of 2011, the Sankei Shimbunprinted an on-the-record interview with the 6th generation leader of the group, Kenichi Shinoda aka Shinobu Tsukasa, in which he explained the rationale of the group’s existence and justified its legality.
There was no official response from the Yamaguchi-gumi on why this year’s festivities had been canceled, but a low-ranking underboss told The Daily Beast over the phone that “Trouble is brewing with the breakaway faction, the so-called ‘Kobe Yamaguchi-gumi,’ and we don’t want to take a chance that some innocent child is embroiled in violence. That would be unforgivable.”
Atsushi Mizoguchi, Japan’s foremost expert on the Yamaguchi-gumi, said that he believed the Yamaguchi-gumi split would result in all yakuza losing power and might herald the end of the yakuza themselves.
Speaking at a press conference last week, Hideaki Kubori, a lawyer specializing in dealing with yakuza related problems, said, “There was a time when the yakuza were thought to be a necessary evil. They aren’t necessary anymore.”
This may be true, but for some Kobe trick-or-treaters the group would be missed.
A veteran detective with the Hyogo Police Department, speaking privately, is skeptical of the announcement. “It’s a way for the Yamaguchi-gumi to remind people that the old guard has always been careful to get along with the local populace and that they’re not all bad.”
He added, “It’s a very cost-efficient form of PR for them. The candy is cheap and they don’t even need to spend money on costumes. Most of them have faces so scary already that they look like monsters without doing anything at all.”

And the organization, it would seem, is a mere ghost of what it used to be.








Japan’s Yakuza Cancels Halloween

$
0
0

On Halloween, Japan’s largest organized crime group used to allow children to extort mobsters. But the event was called off this year due to a possible gang war.

TOKYO — It’s been over a month since Japan’s largest organized crime group, the Yamaguchi-gumi, split into two rival factions, and, ever since, people here have been waiting for something to go bump (or be bumped off) in the night.
But it appears the first victim in the looming gang war is nothing more or less than the gang’s annual Halloween festivities, which had become a yearly event at the Yamaguchi-gumi headquarters in Kobe.
Each Oct. 31, the gangsters famous for their permanent costumes (tattoos, missing digits and the like) invited ordinary citizens, mostly small children in “scary” outfits, to have fun with extortion, demanding Japanese candies and snacks.
In front of the Yamaguchi-gumi headquarters—and yes, all of Japan’s designated mafia groups have well-known headquarters—a sign has been posted in Japanese noting the cancellation of the annual trick-or-treat exchanges:
Every year on October 31st, as per custom, we have held a Halloween [event], but this year, due to various circumstances, the event has been called off. We realize this is causing great regret to those parents and children who looked forward to this, but next year we absolutely will hold the event, so please look forward to it. In great haste, we humbly inform you of this.
The Sankei Shimbunwas the first to report these unhappy tidings on Oct. 21, but all through Kobe, certainly, the sad news was reverberating.
It might surprise many in the West that a notorious syndicate which makes its money through blackmail, racketeering, extortion, and other crimes distributed candy to the neighborhood children each year, but the custom fits a pattern.
The Yamaguchi-gumi has been in business since 1915, when it first began as a temporary staffing agency on the docks of Kobe, a port city. The Yamaguchi-gumi has always tried to cultivate good relations with the locals, hosting an annual rice cake-making event at the start of the year in which the gang distributes food and booze to the locals.








Toronto on brink of a mob war, Italy warns

$
0
0

ADRIAN HUMPHREYS | October 27, 2015 | Last Updated: Oct 28 8:41 AM ET
More from Adrian Humphreys | @AD_Humphreys

National PostCarmine Verduci, 57, was shot several times outside Regina Sports Café in the Toronto suburb of Woodbridge in April 2014.
Mobsters around Toronto are on the brink of armed warfare in a brewing feud between some of the world’s most powerful and wealthiest gangster clans, according to wiretaps secretly recorded in Italy.
Friction between Mafia families in Canada has already triggered one brazen murder, an unsolved shooting last year outside a café in Woodbridge, north of Toronto, authorities in Italy warn after listening to private conversations between an accused mafioso who returned to Italy from Toronto.
The allegations on the inner workings of Ontario-based mob families are revealed in documents prepared by prosecutors in Italy in a sweeping anti-Mafia case targeting the “elite” of the underworld.
 Last month, dozens of accused mobsters were arrested in Europe as part of Operation Acero-Krupy — the very name demonstrating the Canadian connection: acero is Italian for “maple,” while Krupy is a purposeful misspelling of the name of a family under investigation.
Prosecutors claim hidden microphones captured conversations between two men: Vincenzo Crupi, 50, who had recently returned to Italy from Canada, and his brother-in-law, Vincenzo Macri, 50.
“Crupi, coming from Canada, provided a detailed report to Vincenzo Macri about the outcome of his meetings in Canada with members at the top of the ’Ndrangheta operating in that territory,” prosecutors wrote, summarizing their allegations, translated from Italian by National Post.
(The ’Ndrangheta is the proper name of the Mafia that formed in Italy’s region of Calabria.)
The conversations, authorities say, “seriously highlight the danger of an escalation of an armed conflict within the coterie of ’Ndrangheta clans, operating for a long time in Canadian territory … particularly among the Coluccio and the Figliomeni (clans).”
A transcription of the actual words the men spoke was not publicly released and the evidence has not yet been tested in court. Arrest warrants for both were issued on Sept. 28 in Italy as part of the Acero-Krupy probe.
Inter-clan friction in Canada sharply increased after the 2014 murder of Carmine Verduci, the prosecutors say. Verduci, 56, was an important mobster in the Toronto area, described as a transatlantic go-between for gangsters in Italy and Canada, until he was shot dead outside Regina Sports Café in Woodbridge in April 2014.
The prosecution documents claim Crupi also spoke about Verduci’s unsolved murder, calling it an “assassination,” and alleging it was “planned and determined” by two brothers from Vaughan, Ont., who are considered fugitives in Italy for Mafia association.
‘People seem to be getting along, everyone is shaking hands and kissing each other. It is either really good or really bad’
The information from Italy has been shared with Canadian law enforcement, sources in both countries say.
Requests for comment from York Regional Police and the RCMP’s anti-organized crime unit went unanswered Tuesday.
There would be hurdles faced by Canadian police in using the wiretaps to lay charges in the murder, however, especially if the legitimacy of the information was challenged in court. Judicial authorization for a wiretap is far easier for police to obtain in Italy than in Canada.
On the streets of Toronto and north of the city in Vaughan, where many of the suspected mobsters live and work, police say there is no palpable sense a war is brewing.
“Whatever the problem was between these groups, it looks like, somehow, it’s may have been worked out,” said an officer familiar with local ’Ndrangheta figures.
“It looks like business as usual with these groups,” he added, asking his name not be used as he is not authoritized to comment on the cases. In the 18 months since Verduci’s slaying, police are not aware of any dramatic retaliation.
Another police investigator said a war would be so bad for business, cooler heads will likely prevail.
“There are too many important people who would lose money if there was a shooting war. They have to have some cohesion, they have to show strength to stave off competition from (mobsters based in) Montreal.”
However, one officer mused, it just might be a little “too quiet.”
“People seem to be getting along, everyone is shaking hands and kissing each other. It is either really good or really bad — it is sometimes difficult to tell.”
Operation Acero-Krupy began when police in Italy eavesdropped on conversations between two other men with close ties to Canada.
Giuseppe Coluccio, 49, and Antonio Coluccio, 46, are both former residents of Ontario. The older brother was deported in 2008 and the younger left under pressure from immigration authorities in 2010.
The documents allege Giuseppe is now the boss of the globally powerful Coluccio clan
The ’Ndrangheta is built on a confederacy of like-minded clans, each relying on family bonds. It is similar, but separate from the better-known Mafia of Sicily, called Cosa Nostra. Police around the world say the ’Ndrangheta has become the most dangerous and powerful Italian crime group.
A national risk assessment by the RCMP recently identified the ’Ndrangheta in Canada as a priority threat.
As reported by the Post in 2010, Italian authorities said there were at least seven primary ’Ndrangheta clans in the Toronto area and the organization had climbed “to the top of the criminal world,” by establishing a “continuous flow of cocaine.”
In 2010, prosecutors said there was “an unbreakable umbilical cord” between the ’Ndrangheta in Canada and in Italy.
An Italian government official familiar with the latest case said Canada and Italy continue to work closely in investigating mobsters with ties to both countries.
“It is not only a fight for Italy against this group, but a fight at an international level. It is important to share information and work together,” the official said.







Russian Mafia Gangster: Putin's Mafia Statecraft

A man who

$
0
0




A man who has never gone to school may steal from a freight car; but if he has a university education, he may steal the whole railroad. -Theodore Roosevelt, 26th US president 

The Wee Book of Irish-American Gangsters: 'Fat' Freddie Thompson risked gangland hit to see ...

Italian Mafia In Rome: City Can No Longer Fight The Mob, Italy Anti-Corruption Leader Claims

$
0
0


By Jess McHugh

Rome is losing a continuing battle with the Italian mafia, Italy's anti-corruption chief said Thursday, as reported by European news outlet the Local. Often referred to as the mafia or the mob, organized crime rings in Italy continue to be involved in violence and corruption, especially within local governments in Rome, anti-corruption chief Raffaele Cantone said Wednesday.
Despite purges of city officials mired in controversy, the Roman anti-corruption minister said the city needed to work together in challenging the mafia. "In Rome we are doing everything we can, but what is lacking is the cooperation of all parts of the city's administration," Cantone said Wednesday, as reported by the Local.
The Italian mob has enjoyed a visible and lucrative presence in the country and throughout many parts of the globe for decades, becoming a subject of fascination for dozens of books and movies. The illegal organization was thrust into the spotlight little over a year ago, in December 2014, when a widespread corruption scandal based in Rome was revealed by investigators.
The investigation found that Rome city hall officials had contracted mobsters in a series of public works projects, leading to the arrests of 36 people. The city officials and businessmen involved in the scandal are set to go on trial in November.
 Rome Mayor Ignazio Marino, pictured in April, resigned in October amid an ongoing expense scandal.  AFP/Getty Images
A fresh wave of controversy struck the Italian capital after Roman mayor Ignazio Marino resigned two weeks ago following accusations of abuse of city funds. Local authorities accused Marino of spending upwards of 20,000 euros on lavish personal dinners.
Public support for the former mayor of Rome had been waning for months, as the cash-strapped city continued to suffer from its debt and public works projects that had yet to be completed. Marino sparked more outrage in August after a well-known former mob boss was given a lavish funeral, his coffin paraded through the streets of Rome.
Marino denied having given the family of the deceased permission to do so, but the incident helped turn public opinion against the embroiled mayor. Milan has "become the country's moral capital, while Rome has shown itself not to have the necessary antibodies" to fight against organized crime, said Cantone.




Blindfold taste test challenge !! From Ethan Tuohy


How Mafia dons made millions selling property as New York's seedy Times Square area was purged of sex shops and porn theaters in 1980s is laid bare in 'Goodfellas' trial

$
0
0

•           Trial of aging member of Bonnano crime family hears how mafia figures ran swaths of New York in the 1970s and 1980s
•           Son of one notorious figure tells court how he cashed in on sleaze palace in Times Square which he inherited from his father then sold for $18m
•           Brooklyn, New York, federal court is trying Vincent Asaro, 80, on charges of organizing $6m heist at JFK which formed basis of movie Goodfellas
•           Court heard today from John Zaffarano who testified that he willingly gave Asaro - 'cousin Vinny' - $250,000 for negotiating with another don

By ROB CRILLY FOR DAILYMAIL.COM
The porn barons who ran Times Square's sleazy sex theaters made millions out of property deals as the area was cleaned up in the 1980s, according to testimony in the 'Goodfellas' trial of an ageing member of the Bonanno crime family.
On Friday, John Zaffarano said he sold the Pussycat Theatre in 1986 for $18.5m, dividing the proceeds among family and associates.
He was testifying in the trial of his cousin, Vincent Asaro, 80, who is accused of racketeering, extortion and murder in what prosecutors allege was a criminal career that took him to the position of capo.
The case has laid bare how mafia figures ran swaths of New York during the 1970s, 1980s and 1990s, and made money from the sleazy side of Times Square.
Zaffarano, 57, said he was appearing after receiving a subpoena.
Before giving evidence, Nicole Argentieri, assistant US attorney, read an order granting him immunity from prosecution for anything he said in court.
She said: 'Do you want to be here?'
'No I do not,' he answered, as Asaro glared steadily at him through rimless spectacles from across the courtroom.
He was said to be too sick to appear yesterday and the court adjourned early.
When he appeared today, he described being approached by Asaro following the death of his father Michael 'Mickey' Zaffarano - a Bonanno family capo - in 1980. He died of a heart attack in his office on Broadway opposite the theater.
'He said he handed my father some money,' said Zaffarano. 'How should he go about getting repaid.'
He said he agreed to assume the debt of $250,000 and tried to pay off about $2000 a week.
Sometimes he struggled to make the payments because of a 'substance abuse problem', he added, and went on paying the money long after the debt was settled.
'I was in a white cloud,' he said. If payments were late, he would receive a call from the man he referred to as 'my cousin Vinny' throughout.
'He yelled and jumped up and down,' said Zaffarano.
He inherited the Pussycat Theater from his father. The lucrative business at the heart of Times Square's seedy sex industry included a topless bar, two adult movie theaters, a gay bath club and a shop selling sex toys.
He sold it in 1986 for $18.5m. That meant he had to negotiate with each of the businesses in order to bring their rental agreements to a close, he said.
He also had to pay Matthew 'Matty the Horse' Ianniello, a reputed Genovese crime boss, who controlled much of Times Square's sex industry.
Zaffarano said Ianniello 'was looking for $1m and we got him down to $700,000' with the assistance of Asaro. Ianniello died in August 2012.
Asaro received a cut of $300,000 to $400,000, he said.
'I gave money to my family and friends. But for Vinny he helped negotiate that thing over there,' he said.
With the rest of the proceeds, Zaffarano moved to Florida, where he opened a restaurant and nightclub called Blue Bottoms. He said Asaro was among his visitors.
'Do you recall testifying that you gave him $250,000 when he came to Florida?' asked Ms Argentieri, referring to evidence he gave before a grand jury.
'I'm having a little difficulty recalling,' he said
After a break to read his earlier testimony, he said: 'He came down to discuss a business proposition. I gave him $250,000. I thought it was a good deal.'
Under cross-examination, Zaffarano said he had never been forced to hand over money to Asaro and had been happy to assume his father's debt.
'With my condition if you asked me with a smile you got it,' he said, referring to his cocaine addiction.
Elizabeth Macedonia, Asaro's defense attorney, asked: 'Did he scare you?'
'No.'
'Did he threaten you?'
'No.'
Last week, the case heard how Asaro helped assemble the crew behind the notorious 1978 Lufthansa airport heist and drove the 'crash car', designed to stop a police pursuit, on the night.
Gaspare Valenti, a cousin of Asaro, said they had expected to escape with $2m but in fact found more than $6m in cash at Kennedy airport cargo warehouse.
Asaro denies all the charges.


THE KING OF SLEAZE: HOW MICKEY ZAFFARANO PEDDLED SEX FOR THE MOB
Today's trial throws New York's mob history into the spotlight - and with it the life of one of the underworld's sleaziest figures.
Mickey Zaffarano died - apparently of a heart attack - in an office on Broadway on Thursday 14 February 1980. He was 67 and had a history of heart trouble.
But his death was still surrounded by the aura of the Mob - because he had collapsed after fleeing from the Pussycat Theater he owned as the FBI raided it.
They stormed into the notorious sex den as part of what the Associated Press described the following day as 'a nationwide smut roundup', codenamed Miporn.
Zaffarano was found in an office which served as a film-splicing room for pornographic movies. It was across the road from the Pussycat and connected to it by a secret underground tunnel.
Agents believed that he had learned of the impending raid and fled through the tunnel to the splicing room.
He was considered to be one of four kingpins of the hardcore pornography industry, worth $4billion at the time. The other three were arrested in Miporn.
The former bodyguard to Joseph Bonnano, head of the Bonnano crime family, had a 25-year long criminal record, with convictions for assault and robbery, and a seven-year federal prison term for transporting stolen security.
He had the rank of capo in Bonnano's family, under first Bonnano, then his successor Carmine Galante, who had been killed in 1979 when he was trying to be 'boss of bosses' - the head of the Five Families.
In 1978, it had been alleged that Zaffarano was the hidden owner of the Pussycat Theater; the Pussycat Show Center, a topless bar;  the Broadway Arms, a gay film house; Cat's Eye, a disco bar; and Leave It to Beaver, a massage parlor.
But he claimed simply to be a landlord and said: 'I have nothing to do with the tenants. I'm not doing anything wrong or illegal. This is what people want to see.'
The next year, 1979, he was sued in federal court by lawyers for the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders, because his movie theater premiered Debbie Does Dallas, the notorious pornographic film.
The cheerleaders alleged he was infringing copyright by showing it and eventually the suit was settled  by cutting some of the scenes.
The week before he died he was sued again, this time over 'Fantasy Island' another porn movie.

At the time it was also a popular ABC program and the producers sued because they did not want their title associated with the movie - or the two midgets who promoted it every night outside the Pussycat and another porn cinema, Lido East, on the opposite side of Manhattan.



TOKYO — Japan is bracing for war.

$
0
0


Not with other countries, but with the nation's notorious gangsters.
A 43-year-old man was gunned down in the parking lot of a hot springs resort in western Japan earlier this month in what authorities say they fear could be the start of a deadly war among the nation's largest organized crime gangs, known collectively as the yakuza.
The powerful Yamaguchi-gumi crime syndicate, which marked its 100th anniversary this year, split into two rival groups in September. Police arrested a member of the Yamaguchi-gumi in the hot springs shooting and identified the victim as a member of the breakaway group.
Analysts said the rupture was due to long-running disputes over succession plans and high fees that member groups were required to pay Yamaguchi-gumi leaders.
Japan’s National Police Agency warned of possible gang violence at an emergency meeting of senior officials from each of the country's 47 prefectures shortly after the split. "We don't have specific information thus far that the rift will develop into inter-gang conflicts, but there were incidents in the past which involved civilians," Takashi Kinoshita, chief of the JNPAs organized crime division, said at the meeting in early September, according to local media.
A dispute over the gang’s leadership in the early 1980s led to a two-year war that left an estimated 30 gangsters dead, 70 others wounded and more than 500 in police custody. However, there are no statistics on the number of civilians killed or injured in the violence.
Today, local news media report that yakuza groups are beginning to stockpile weapons and recruit members to carry out potential hits. The price of a handgun sold on the black market has risen from $2,500 to $10,000 in recent weeks, according to Asahi Shimbun, a leading mainstream newspaper.
Legal firearms are highly restricted in Japan. In a nation of roughly 127 million people, Japan had just 35 cases of firearm shootings in 2010, according to the most recent data available from the National Police Agency's “Crime in Japan” report.
Last month, in the western Japanese city of Toyama, one yakuza group paraded as many as 100 gangsters down a busy street in a show of strength. Two nights later, a rival group did the same nearby, Kyodo News Service reported. Authorities responded by sending scores of police to raid each group's headquarters, according to Kyodo.
Police estimate that Yamaguchi-gumi had about 10,000 core members and about 14,000 affiliated members before the split. About one-third are believed to have broken off to form a rival organization, called the Kobe Yamaguchi-gumi.
Atsushi Mizoguchi, a journalist and author who has written extensively on the yakuza, said it is unlikely that senior leaders would order a full-on war. But he said at least some violence is likely as rival groups fight for turf.
“If organized criminals were able to establish viable revenues by invading the domain of others … it could lead to skirmishes in various places around the country. That could expand and eventually could well lead to a (violent) struggle,” Mizoguchi said at a Tokyo press briefing this week.
Jake Adelstein, a Tokyo journalist and authority on organized crime, is less sure. He points to the case ofTadamasa Goto, a yakuza boss who was ordered to pay $1.2 million in damages to the family of a real estate agent murdered by members of his gang in 2012. Although Goto was not charged in the death, he was still held liable.
“The situation is very different from what it was in the '80s,” Adelstein said. “It's not economically wise to have a gang war. The general public is no longer tolerant ofyakuza conflict. It's costly to kill people.”
Yakuza gangs, long tolerated as a “necessary evil” in Japan, have been in slow decline since organized crime countermeasures were enacted in the early 1990s. Many gangs still operate semi-openly, however, with headquarters, business cards and legitimate-appearing front companies.
Yakuza engage in a variety of “serious criminal activities, including weapons trafficking, prostitution, human trafficking, drug trafficking, fraud and money laundering,” according to a February 2012 report from the U.S. Treasury Department. Extortion, loan-sharking and “protection” rackets also are common yakuza activities in Japan.
President Obama issued an executive order in 2011 designating the yakuza as a “transnational criminal organization.” The Treasury Department has since frozen assets in the U.S. of more than a dozen yakuza bosses — including the leaders of the Yamaguchi-gumi and the breakaway Kodo-kai gang — and has forbidden Americans from doing business with them.
In a report issued in April, the Treasury Department labeled the Kodo-kai “the most violent faction within the Yamaguchi-gumi” and said the yakuza has engaged in drug trafficking and money laundering in the United States, but did not provide details. There is no indication that any yakuza violence as a result of the recent split could spread to the U.S.





Editorial Reviews
From Publishers Weekly
JFK's pardons and the mob; Prohibition, Chicago's crime cadres and the staged kidnapping of "`Jake the Barber'" Factor, "the black sheep brother of the cosmetics king, Max Factor"; lifetime sentences, attempted jail busts and the perseverance of "a rumpled private detective and an eccentric lawyer" John W. Tuohy showcases all these and more sensational and shady happenings in When Capone's Mob Murdered Roger Touhy: The Strange Case of Touhy, Jake the Barber and the Kidnapping that Never Happened. The author started investigating Touhy's 1959 murder by Capone's gang in 1975 for an undergrad assignment. He traces the frame-job whereby Touhy was accused of the kidnapping, his decades in jail, his memoirs, his retrial and release and, finally, his murder, 28 days after regaining his freedom. Sixteen pages of photos.

From Library Journal
Roger Touhy, one of the "terrible Touhys" and leader of a bootlegging racket that challenged Capone's mob in Prohibition Chicago, had a lot to answer for, but the crime that put him behind bars was, ironically, one he didn't commit: the alleged kidnapping of Jake Factor, half-brother of Max Factor and international swindler. Author Tuohy (apparently no relation), a former staff investigator for the National Center for the Study of Organized Crime, briefly traces the history of the Touhys and the Capone mob, then describes Factor's plan to have himself kidnapped, putting Touhy behind bars and keeping himself from being deported. This miscarriage of justice lasted 17 years and ended in Touhy's parole and murder by the Capone mob 28 days later. Factor was never deported. The author spent 26 years researching this story, and he can't bear to waste a word of it. Though slim, the book still seems padded, with irrelevant detail muddying the main story. Touhy is a hard man to feel sorry for, but the author does his best. Sure to be popular in the Chicago area and with the many fans of mob history, this is suitable for larger public libraries and regional collections. Deirdre Bray Root, Middletown P.L., OH 

BOOK REVIEW
     John William Tuohy, one of the most prolific crime writers in America, has penned a tragic, but fascinating story of Roger Touhy and John Factor. It's a tale born out of poverty and violence, a story of ambition gone wrong and deception on an enormous, almost unfathomable, scale. However, this is also a story of triumph of determination to survive, of a lifelong struggle for dignity and redemption of the spirit.
     The story starts with John "Jake the Barber" Factor. The product of the turn of the century European ethnic slums of Chicago's west side, Jake's brother, Max Factor, would go on to create an international cosmetic empire.
     In 1926, Factor, grubstaked in a partnership with the great New York criminal genius, Arnold Rothstien, and Chicago's Al Capone, John Factor set up a stock scam in England that fleeced thousands of investors, including members of the royal family, out of $8 million dollars, an incredible sum of money in 1926.
     After the scam fell apart, Factor fled to France, where he formed another syndicate of con artists, who broke the bank at Monte Carlo by rigging the tables.
     Eventually, Factor fled to the safety of Capone's Chicago but the highest powers in the Empire demanded his arrest. However, Factor fought extradition all the way to the United States Supreme Court, but he had a weak case and deportation was inevitable. Just 24 hours before the court was to decide his fate, Factor paid to have himself kidnapped and his case was postponed. He reappeared in Chicago several days later, and, at the syndicates' urging, accused gangster Roger Touhy of the kidnapping.
     Roger "The Terrible" Touhy was the youngest son of an honest Chicago cop. Although born in the Valley, a teeming Irish slum, the family moved to rural Des Plains, Illinois while Roger was still a boy. Touhy's five older brothers stayed behind in the valley and soon flew under the leadership of "Terrible Tommy" O'Connor. By 1933, three of them would be shot dead in various disputes with the mob and one, Tommy, would lose the use of his legs by syndicate machine guns. Secure in the still rural suburbs of Cook County, Roger Touhy graduated as class valedictorian of his Catholic school. Afterwards, he briefly worked as an organizer for the Telegraph and Telecommunications Workers Union after being blacklisted by Western Union for his minor pro-labor activities.
     Touhy entered the Navy in the first world war and served two years, teaching Morse code to Officers at Harvard University.
     After the war, he rode the rails out west where he earned a living as a railroad telegraph operator and eventually made a small but respectable fortune as an oil well speculator.
     Returning to Chicago in 1924, Touhy married his childhood sweetheart, regrouped with his brothers and formed a partnership with a corrupt ward heeler named Matt Kolb, and, in 1925, he started a suburban bootlegging and slot machine operation in northwestern Cook County. Left out of the endless beer wars that plagued the gangs inside Chicago, Touhy's operation flourished. By 1926, his slot machine operations alone grossed over $1,000,000.00 a year, at a time when a gallon of gas cost eight cents.
     They were unusual gangsters. When the Klu Klux Klan, then at the height of its power, threatened the life of a priest who had befriended the gang, Tommy Touhy, Roger's older brother, the real "Terrible Touhy," broke into the Klan's national headquarters, stole its membership roles, and, despite an offer of $25,000 to return them, delivered the list to the priest who published the names in several Catholic newspapers the following day.
     Once, Touhy unthinkingly released several thousand gallons of putrid sour mash in to the Des Plains River one day before the city was to reenact its discovery by canoe-riding Jesuits a hundred years before. After a dressing down by the towns people Touhy spent $10,000.00 on perfume and doused the river with it, saving the day.
     They were inventive too. When the Chicago police levied a 50% protection tax on Touhy's beer, Touhy bought a fleet of Esso gasoline delivery trucks, kept the Esso logo on the vehicles, and delivered his booze to his speakeasies that way.
     In 1930, when Capone invaded the labor rackets, the union bosses, mostly Irish and completely corrupt, turned to the Touhy organization for protection. The intermittent gun battles between the Touhys and the Capone mob over control of beer routes which had been fought on the empty, back roads of rural Cook County, was now brought into the city where street battles extracted an awesome toll on both sides. The Chicago Tribune estimated the casualties to be one hundred dead in less then 12 months.
     By the winter of 1933, remarkably, Touhy was winning the war in large part because joining him in the struggle against the mob was Chicago's very corrupt, newly elected mayor Anthony "Ten percent Tony" Cermak, who was as much a gangster as he was an elected official.
     Cermak threw the entire weight of his office and the whole Chicago police force behind Touhy's forces. Eventually, two of Cermak's police bodyguards arrested Frank Nitti, the syndicate's boss, and, for a price, shot him six times. Nitti lived. As a result, two months later Nitti's gunmen caught up with Cermak at a political rally in Florida.
     Using previously overlooked Secret Service reports, this book proves, for the first time, that the mob stalked Cermak and used a hardened felon to kill him. The true story behind the mob's 1933 murder of Anton Cermak, will changes histories understanding of organized crimes forever. The fascinating thing about this killing is its eerie similarity to the Kennedy assassination in Dallas thirty years later, made even more macabre by the fact that several of the names associated with the Cermak killing were later aligned with the Kennedy killing.
     For many decades, it was whispered that the mob had executed Cermak for his role in the Touhy-syndicate war of 1931-33, but there was never proof. The official story is that a loner named Giuseppe Zangara, an out-of-work, Sicilian born drifter with communist leanings, traveled to Florida in the winter of 1933 and fired several shots at President Franklin Roosevelt. He missed the President, but killed Chicago's Mayor Anton Cermak instead. However, using long lost documents, Tuohy is able to prove that Zangara was a convicted felon with long ties to mob Mafia and that he very much intended to murder Anton Cermak.
     With Cermak dead, Touhy was on his own against the mob. At the same time, the United States Postal Service was closing in on his gang for pulling off the largest mail heists in US history at that time. The cash was used to fund Touhy's war with the Capones.Then in June of 1933, John Factor en he reappeared, Factor accused Roger Touhy of kidnapping him. After two sensational trials, Touhy was convicted of kidnapping John Factor and sentenced to 99 years in prison and Factor, after a series of complicated legal maneuvers, and using the mob's influence, was allowed to remain in the United States as a witness for the prosecution, however, he was still a wanted felon in England.
     By 1942 Roger Touhy had been in prison for nine years, his once vast fortune was gone. Roger's family was gone as well. At his request, his wife Clara had moved to Florida with their two sons in 1934. However, with the help of Touhy's remaining sister, the family retained a rumpled private detective, actually a down-and-out, a very shady and disbarred mob lawyer named Morrie Green.
     Disheveled of not, Green was a highly competent investigator and was able to piece together and prove the conspiracy that landed Touhy in jail. However, no court would hear the case, and by the fall of 1942, Touhy had exhausted every legal avenue open to him.Desperate, Touhy hatched a daring daylight breakout over the thirty foot walls of Stateville prison.The sensational escape ended three months later in a dramatic and bloody shootout between the convicts and the FBI, led by J. Edgar Hoover.
     Less then three months after Touhy was captured, Fox Studios hired producer Brian Foy to churn out a mob financed docudrama film on the escape entitled, "Roger Touhy, The Last Gangster." The executive producer on the film was Johnny Roselli, the hood who later introduced Judy Campbell to Frank Sinatra. Touhy sued Fox and eventually won his case and the film was withdrawn from circulation. In 1962, Columbia pictures and John Houston tried to produce a remake of the film, but were scared off the project.
     While Touhy was on the run from prison, John Factor was convicted for m ail fraud and was sentenced and served ten years at hard labor. Factor's take from the scam was $10,000,000.00 in cash.
     Released in 1949, Factor took control of the Stardust Hotel Casino in 1955, then the largest operation on the Vegas strip. The casino's true owners, of course, were Chicago mob bosses Paul Ricca, Tony Accardo, Murray Humpreys and Sam Giancana. From 1955 to 1963, the length of Factor's tenure at the casino, the US Justice Department estimated that the Chicago outfit skimmed between forty-eight to 200 million dollars from the Stardust alone.
     In 1956, while Factor and the outfit were growing rich off the Stardust, Roger Touhy hired a quirky, high strung, but highly effective lawyer named Robert B. Johnstone to take his case. A brilliant legal tactician, who worked incessantly on Touhy's freedom, Robert Johnstone managed to get Touhy's case heard before federal judge John P. Barnes, a refined magistrate filled with his own eccentricities. After two years of hearings, Barnes released a 1,500-page decision on Touhy's case, finding that Touhy was railroaded to prison in a conspiracy between the mob and the state attorney's office and that John Factor had kidnapped himself as a means to avoid extradition to England.
     Released from prison in 1959, Touhy wrote his life story "The Stolen Years" with legendary Chicago crime reporter, Ray Brennan. It was Brennan, as a young cub reporter, who broke the story of John Dillenger's sensational escape from Crown Point prison, supposedly with a bar of soap whittled to look like a pistol. It was also Brennan who brought about the end of Roger Touhy's mortal enemy, "Tubbo" Gilbert, the mob owned chief investigator for the Cook County state attorney's office, and who designed the frame-up that placed Touhy behind bars.
     Factor entered a suit against Roger Touhy, his book publishers and Ray Brennan, claiming it damaged his reputation as a "leading citizen of Nevada and a philanthropist."
     The teamsters, Factor's partners in the Stardust Casino, refused to ship the book and Chicago's bookstore owners were warned by Tony Accardo, in person, not to carry the book.
     Touhy and Johnstone fought back by drawing up the papers to enter a $300,000,000 lawsuit against John Factor, mob leaders Paul Ricca, Tony Accardo and Murray Humpreys as well as former Cook County state attorney Thomas Courtney and Tubbo Gilbert, his chief investigator, for wrongful imprisonment.
     The mob couldn't allow the suit to reach court, and considering Touhy's determination, Ray Brennan's nose for a good story and Bob Johnstone's legal talents, there was no doubt the case would make it to court. If the case went to court, John Factor, the outfit's figurehead at the lucrative Stardust Casino, could easily be tied in to illegal teamster loans. At the same time, the McClellan committee was looking into the ties between the teamsters, Las Vegas and organized crime and the raid at the mob conclave in New York state had awakened the FBI and brought them into the fight. So, Touhy's lawsuit was, in effect, his death sentence.
     Twenty-five days after his release from twenty-five years in prison, Roger Touhy was gunned down on a frigid December night on his sister's front door.
     Two years after Touhy's murder, in 1962, Attorney General Robert Kennedy ordered his Justice Department to look into the highly suspect dealings of the Stardust Casino. Factor was still the owner on record, but had sold his interest in the casino portion of the hotel for a mere 7 million dollars. Then, in December of that year, the INS, working with the FBI on Bobby Kennedy's orders, informed Jake Factor that he was to be deported from the United States before the end of the month. Factor would be returned to England where he was still a wanted felon as a result of his 1928 stock scam. Just 48 hours before the deportation, Factor, John Kennedy's largest single personal political contributor, was granted a full and complete Presidential pardon which allowed him to stay in the United States.
     The story hints that Factor was more then probably an informant for the Internal Revenue Service, it also investigates the murky world of Presidential pardons, the last imperial power of the Executive branch. It's a sordid tale of abuse of privilege, the mob's best friend and perhaps it is time the American people reconsider the entire notion.
     The mob wasn't finished with Factor. Right after his pardon, Factor was involved in a vague, questionable financial plot to try and bail teamster boss Jimmy Hoffa out of his seemingly endless financial problems in Florida real estate. He was also involved with a questionable stock transaction with mobster Murray Humpreys. Factor spent the remaining twenty years of his life as a benefactor to California's Black ghettos. He tried, truly, to make amends for all of the suffering he had caused in his life. He spent millions of dollars building churches, gyms, parks and low cost housing in the poverty stricken ghettos. When he died, three United States Senators, the Mayor of Los Angles and several hundred poor Black waited in the rain to pay their last respects at Jake the Barber's funeral.


~    An Interview With Crime Writer John William Touhy    ~
O’Laughlin: First things first, are you related to your books subject, Roger Touhy.
Tuohy: No, not in the least. His last name was actually Tewy. Mine is Tuohy. Different tribe, literally.
O’Laughlin: But John Factor, the other leading subject in the book is related to Max Factor, the cosmetic king, right?
Tuohy: More or less. Same father, different mother. I don’t think the brothers were very close because of the age difference between them, and as far as I know, Max Factor was an upstanding guy who kept out of trouble and was an honest business person.
O’Laughlin: You started "When Capone’s Mob murdered Touhy as an undergrad, how long ago was that?
Tuohy: Long ago. I’m an old guy. That was in 1976 when I was attending the criminal justice program at the University of New Haven. The instructor, by the way, was Dr. Henry Lee. He later turned up at the O.J .Simpson trial. I was originally going to work on the Sam Sheppard murder case, but several other students had already declared that as their subject. I had heard about Touhy, and on a fluke, did some research, it lasted almost thirty years.
O’Laughlin: Why did they kill Touhy?
Tuohy: He intended to enter a 300 million dollar suit against the state of Illinois for wrongful imprisonment. But suing the state was only a pretext to drag people like Ricca, Accardo, Giancana into court so that he could reveal the relationship between the Mafia, the Teamsters money , the Stardust casino and John Factor. In 1959, those relationship were still very hush-hush. So they killed him.
O’Laughlin: But could he have won the case?
Tuohy: I don’t think he was suing to win or lose the case, he was suing to get revenge He would have embarrassed a lot of people with the information he could have revealed. You know, he was surrounded by a motley crew. His private detective was a cop with a shady past, his lawyer had a history of mental problems and his co-author drank to much, but combined they were a highly effective group, very good and very committed to Touhy. They could have shed light on a lot of profitable areas for the Outfit.
     You know, that’s an interesting asset Touhy had, by the way. People around him were loyal to him, he had a charisma. Betty Brennan, Ray Brennan’s wife said it the best "He made you want to protect"
O’Laughlin: Do you think Factor knew about the murder in advance?
Tuohy: No, Jake the Barber, as Factor was known, was a lot of things, but not a killer. I think he would have taken steps to stop the killing if he had known about it.
     I do think the murder was designed by Murray Humpries and carried out by Sam Giancana and two others. Humpries had the most to lose with Touhy alive and I’m told that the fact Touhy referred to him as a pimp really set Humpries off. Humpries considered himself something more than what he was, a cheap hood. He thought he was above it.
     I think Giancana and the other two who may have actually carried out the killing, because they were ordered too of course, but because they were former members of the 42 gang, the group that fought against the Touhy’s in the 1931-32 union wars. A lot of 42 members, kids mostly, were killed in that war.
O’Laughlin: So revenge was not a motive in his death?
Tuohy: No. The murder brought international attention to his case. They, Mafia, didn’t want that. I think that if Touhy had simply retired to Florida and left well enough alone, they would have let him live. Besides, if they wanted him dead, they could have had him killed in prison with much less attention.
O’Laughlin: Would you say Touhy was a typical Irish mobster?
Tuohy: Yes and no. He was a mobster who happened to be Irish-American, but he was a hood, a likable hood, but still a hood. Some things about him were very Celtic, like his aversion to prostitution, although to some degree that was more of a business decision than anything else.
O’Laughlin: Why?
Tuohy: Well he knew that the people who lived in the suburbs that he controlled would draw the line on prostitution in their towns. That’s the interesting thing about Touhy and Factor, they understood the importance of public perception Most gangsters didn’t.
     They both knew that the public will allow a certain amount of bad behavior, but it was a fine line. Capone never understood that. Frankie Nitti understood that.
     Even when Touhy was in prison, he sent Christmas cards to the media. Factor gave millions of dollars to the poor, although some of that may have been actual remorse for his past life.
O’Laughlin: And Factor ended up with a Presidential pardon didn’t he? How did that happen?
Tuohy: Frankly, I think he bought it. I think the larger picture is that when the Kennedy’s and the mob were still on a best friend basis, that a lot of hoods got favors from them. Its an area that needs to be looked into.
O’Laughlin: Why don’t you look in to it?
Tuohy: Well I have, but most of the records are locked up with the CIA and the Navy. I don’t know why the Navy has them. Its one of those projects that could years to unlock and I have other fish to fry.
O’Laughlin: When do you write?
Tuohy: Constantly. When I’m not sitting in front of the keyboard, I’m writing in my mind. I edit, move around paragraphs, change structure. Its difficult to turn it off. I’ve read that writing is a craft, but I don’t know. I mean how many carpenters stay awake at night rebuilding a cabinet in their mind?
     You know writing this stuff, mob stuff is harder than it seems. Because unlike other subjects, the writer can’t get to involved with the subject, writing with emotion isn’t a real option, you have to stay detached but at the same time it can’t be devoid of feeling. Its a fine line.
O’Laughlin: Any favorite crime writers?
Tuohy: Rick Porello is a good writer, dedicated researcher. I like Jerry Capcici’s style too. Very uncomplicated, very New York. You don’t have to read his stuff twice to understand what he’s saying. Nor should the reader have to do that in this type of writing. This isn’t rocket science. This isn’t deep. This is mob stuff.
     Dan Moldea is a dedicate researcher and has a clear style. If Moldea wrote it, you can be damn sure he researched the hell out of it first. He’s caught hell for some of his political stances, and I don’t necessarily agree with his take on everything, politically, but that’s his style. Moldea and Capcici have an understanding of the subject matter and its shows in their work.
     Richard Lindberg has a unique style, he writes with flare. David Evanier is a master. There was, or is, I don’t know, a New York writer named Harvey Aronson who is also a master story teller.
O’Laughlin: What do you think of the Mob as a source of stories?
Tuohy: You know, there will come a day, when some medical doctor will do a research project and discover that that organized crime is little more than a large group of dishonest people with attention deficit syndrome with hyperactivity who found each other.
     I work on the theory, and its good theory, that 25% of what a bad guy tells me is a lie, 25% is inaccurate, 25% is irrelevant and about 25% is worth writing down…and most of that is sensationalized. Unfortunately, you have to listen to the first 75% to get to the worthy subject matter.
     In the end, your better off getting your information from the government. Its just as good and you don’t have to sit through hours of "Let me tell you abut the time I…" stories. You know, most of those guys have no concept of the larger picture. Its like somebody wrote about Joe Valachi that listening to his testimony on the Mafia was listening to an infantry private explaining the origins of the Second World War.
O’Laughlin: You’ve told me that you don’t hold to the Mob-killed Kennedy theory?
Tuohy: These stories come from people with an agenda and no proof. There was a wonderful, small book that came and went, called "Oswald’s Game", I’ve forgotten the authors name, but she did a great job bringing out the real Oswald. It convinced me that he was the lone gunmen. The book didn’t go anyway, because, in part, it lacked the intrigue of a conspiracy story and because, for a while, there was a lot of money to be made in the Mob killed Kennedy stuff.
     You know, when you talk to some of these mob guys who were active then, people who could have known something about it, they always imply there was a conspiracy but they don’t have any thing of concrete, only the "I heard stuff"
     You know, a lot of it, this mob conspiracy stuff, is cultural. If you ask a reasonable person "Have you ever cracked a guys head with a baseball bat?" even if they did, they’ll deny it. Ask a bad guy the same question, and even if he never cracked anybody, he’ll lie and say "Yeah, a dozen times" Its a macho world down there, the rules are different. It was the same thing with the old bosses, they were very pleased that people assumed they had a hand in Kennedy’s murder, it made them look all- powerful. In one way, it was good for business, in many ways it wasn’t.
     You know, if you look at the players, the people who spread the mob involvement stories, you see that they had reason to spread these things to a press that was willing to listen. Johnny Roselli, at an age when most men are deep in retirement, was dead broke, under a dozen indictment and facing deportation to a country he knew nothing about. He would have said anything to avoid facing the music. Its same thing with that Marcello lawyer who wrote some rubbish about Marcello having played a role in the murder. When he wrote that he was disbarred, flat broke, facing a massive tax lien and had cancer. After three decades as a mob lawyer, he really didn’t have a story to tell, so he came up with "Marcello told me he did it" Of course Marcello was dead at the time the lawyer came up with this stuff.
     There’s a lot of speculation in this sort of writing. Like the people who write that Hoover was Gay, as though its an accusation, are the same one’s who leap to defend Gay rights. They have an agenda, which is fine, but say so. But again, where are the facts? The Hoover was Gay story is right up there with the Mob killed Kennedy stories and the Loch Ness Monster tales, fascinating yarns with no evidence, and the people who have come forward have an agenda or an axe to grind. I’ve been all over this town, DC, for the past twenty years interviewing people who knew Hoover, on all levels. People who would have had an opportunity to see Gay Hoover in action. They speaking to me off the record, but not one of them believed the Gay stories about him or saw any evidence of it .They confirm that the guy was an abusive prick and he was a very, very strange person, but that’s it. But again, whether Hoover was Gay or whatever, how is this of any importance?
O’Laughlin: Favorite mob film?
Tuohy: I don’t have one. I don’t watch that stuff. I’ve seen them but I don’t get a lot of personnel time and when I do, I like to relax. I like fluff films, Gary Grant, Rock Hudson, even the occasional Elvis film. Film is best when it deals with fantasy, and those films are fantasy. The good guy always wins, always gets the girl, they’re always filmed on great locations with nice looking people whose every third word isn’t "F" this or "F" that.
O’Laughlin: But you must have one gangster film you like.
Tuohy: Well, for accuracy, I though Harvey Kietel in the film "The Bad Lieutenant" was about right. Its a quasi-mob film, but the portrayal is correct; self obsessed, weasel behavior, money hungry. Its a dark film, but its supposed to be and for what it is, its a good film.
O’Laughlin: What do you think of the Soprano’s?
Tuohy: I’ve never seen it. Its on cable, we have children, I don’t think cable is healthy for children. They become TV zombies.
O’Laughlin: Will the mob survive this century?
Tuohy: Sure. The mob has always had one foot in the grave and they always will, and they’ll always survive


Interesting Information on A Little Known Case
By Bill Emblom
Author John Tuohy, who has a similar spelling of the last name to his subject Roger, but apparently no relation, has provided us with an interesting story of northwest Chicago beer baron Roger Touhy who was in competition with Al Capone during Capone's heyday. Touhy appeared to be winning the battle since Mayor Anton Cermak was deporting a number of Capone's cronies. However, the mob hit, according to the author, on Mayor Cermak in Miami, Florida, by Giuseppe Zangara following a speech by President-elect Roosevelt, put an end to the harrassment of Capone's cronies. The author details the staged "kidnapping" of Jake "the Barber" Factor who did this to avoid being deported to England and facing a prison sentence there for stock swindling, with Touhy having his rights violated and sent to prison for 25 years for the kidnapping that never happened. Factor and other Chicago mobsters were making a lot of money with the Stardust Casino in Las Vegas when they got word that Touhy was to be parolled and planned to write his life story. The mob, not wanting this, decided Touhy had to be eliminated. Touhy was murdered by hit men in 1959, 28 days after gaining his freedom. Jake Factor had also spent time in prison in the United States for a whiskey swindle involving 300 victims in 12 states. Two days before Factor was to be deported to England to face prison for the stock swindle President Kennedy granted Factor a full Presidential Pardon after Factor's contribution to the Bay of Pigs fund. President Kennedy, the author notes, issued 472 pardons (about half questionable) more than any president before or since.
There are a number of books on Capone and the Chicago mob. This book takes a look at an overlooked beer baron from that time period, Roger Touhy. It is a very worthwhile read and one that will hold your interest.

GREAT BOOK FROM CHICAGO AND ERA WAS MY DAD'S,TRUE TO STORY
Very good book. Hard to put down
Bymistakesweremadeon
Eight long years locked up for a kidnapping that was in fact a hoax, in autumn 1942, Roger Touhy & his gang of cons busted out of Stateville, the infamous "roundhouse" prison, southwest of Chicago Illinois. On the lam 2 months he was, when J Edgar & his agents sniffed him out in a run down 6-flat tenement on the city's far north lakefront. "Terrible Roger" had celebrated Christmas morning on the outside - just like all square Johns & Janes - but by New Year's Eve, was back in the bighouse.
Touhy's arrest hideout holds special interest to me because I grew up less than a mile away from it. Though I never knew so til 1975 when his bio was included in hard-boiled crime chronicler Jay Robert Nash's, Badmen & Bloodletters, a phone book sized encyclopedia of crooks & killers. Touhy's hard scrabble charisma stood out among 200 years' worth of sociopathic Americana Nash had alphabetized, and gotten a pulphouse publisher to print up for him.
I read Nash's outlaw dictionary as a teen, and found Touhy's Prohibition era David vs Goliath battles with ultimate gangster kingpin, Al Capone quite alluring, in an anti-hero sorta way. Years later I learned Touhy had written a memoir, and reading his The Stolen Years only reinforced my image of an underdog speakeasy beer baron - slash suburban family man - outwitting the stone cold killer who masterminded the St. Valentine's Day Massacre.
Like most autobiographies tho, Touhy's book painted him the good guy. Just an everyday gent caught up in events, and he sold his story well. Had I been a saloonkeeper back then I could picture myself buying his sales pitch - and liking the guy too. I sure bought into his tale, which in hindsight criminal scribe Nash had too, because both writers portray Touhy - though admittedly a crook - as never "really" hurting anybody. Only doing what any down-to-earth bootlegger running a million dollar/year criminal enterprise would have.

What Capone's Mob Murdered Roger Touhy author John Tuohy does tho is, provide a more objective version of events, balancing out Touhy's white wash ... 'er ... make that subjectively ... remembered telling of his life & times. Author Tuohy's account of gangster Touhy's account forced me - grown up now - to re-account for my own original take on the story.
As a kid back then, Touhy seemed almost a Robin Hood- ish hood - if you'll pardon a very lame pun. Forty years on tho re-considering the evidence, I think a persuasive - if not iron-clad convincing - case can be made for his conviction in the kidnapping of swindler scumbag Jake the Barber Factor. At least as far as conspiracy to do so goes, anyways. (Please excuse the crude redundancy there but Factor's stench truly was that of the dog s*** one steps in on those unfortunate occasions one does.)
Touhy's memoir painted himself as almost an innocent bystander at his own life's events. But he was a very smart & savvy guy - no dummy by a long shot. And I kinda do believe now, to not have known his own henchmen were in on Factor's ploy to stave off deportation and imprisonment, Touhy would have had to be as naive a Prohibition crime boss - and make no mistake he was one - as I was as a teenage kid reading Nash's thug-opedia,
On the other hand, the guy was the father of two sons and it's repulsive to consider he would have taken part in loathsomeness the crime of kidnapping was - even if the abducted victim was an adult and as repulsively loathsome as widows & orphans conman, Jake Factor.
This book's target audience is crime buffs no doubt, but it's an interesting read just the same; and includes anecdotes and insights I had not known of before. Unfortunately too, one that knocks a hero of mine down a peg or two - or more like ten.
Circa 1960, President Kennedy pardoned Jake the Barber, a fact that reading of almost made me puke. Then again JFK and the Chicago Mob did make for some strange bedfellowery every now & again. I'll always admire WWII US Navy commander Kennedy's astonishing (word chosen carefully) bravery following his PT boat's sinking, but him signing that document - effectively wiping Factor's s*** stain clean - as payback for campaign contributions Factor made to him, was REALLY nauseating to read.
Come to think of it tho, the terms "criminal douchedog"& "any political candidate" are pretty much interchangeable.
Anyways tho ... rest in peace Rog, & I raise a toast - of virtual bootleg ale - in your honor: "Turns out you weren't the hard-luck mug I'd thought you were, but what the hell, at least you had style." And guts to meet your inevitable end with more grace than a gangster should.
Post Note: Author Tuohy's re-examination of the evidence in the Roger Touhy case does include some heroes - guys & women - who attempted to find the truth of what did happen. Reading about people like that IS rewarding. They showed true courage - and decency - in a world reeking of corruption & deceit. So, here's to the lawyer who took on a lost cause; the private detective who dug up buried facts; and most of all, Touhy's wife & sister who stood by his side all those years.

Crime don't pay, kids
Very good organized crime book. A rather obscure gangster story which makes it fresh to read. I do not like these minimum word requirements for a review. (There, I have met my minimum)

Chicago Gangster History At It's Best
ByJ. CROSBYon
As a 4th generation Chicagoan, I just loved this book. Growing up in the 1950's and 60's I heard the name "Terrible Touhy's" mentioned many times. Roger was thought of as a great man, and seems to have been held in high esteem among the old timer Chicagoans.

That said, I thought this book to be nothing but interesting and well written. (It inspired me to find a copy of Roger's "Stolen Years" bio.) I do recommend this book to other folks interested in prohibition/depression era Chicago crime research. It is a must have for your library of Gangsters literature from that era. Chock full of information and the reader is transported back in time.
I'd like to know just what is "The Valley" area today in Chicago. I still live in the Windy City and would like to see if anything remains from the early days of the 20th century.
A good writer and a good book! I will buy some more of Mr. Tuohy's work.

Great story, great read
ByBookreaderon
A complex tale of gangsters, political kickback, mob wars and corrupt politicians told with wit and humor at a good pace. Highly recommend this book.

One of the best books I've read in a long time....
If you're into mafioso, read this! I loved it. Bought a copy for my brother to read for his birthday--good stuff.

Goodfellas' heist trial

$
0
0

Brutal details of New York Mafia life recalled in 'Goodfellas' heist trial
Tina Susman
 The man in the black track suit spoke in a voice as deep and gravelly as the pits where the bodies were buried.
He recounted a life of crime, from small-time hustling for neighborhood mobsters to the big stuff: hijackings, murders, beatings and drug trafficking.
From the witness stand in a Brooklyn courtroom, Peter "Bud" Zuccaro was at ease recalling the brutal details, like the time someone raised a hand to Fat Andy's wife and was never seen again, or the time he blew off the head of an attack dog chewing on his arm.
If it sounds like a Hollywood movie, that's because it is: Martin Scorsese's 1990 "Goodfellas," which told the story of the 1978 Lufthansa heist and its bloody aftermath. Nearly 40 years later, Vincent Asaro is on trial on charges that he helped plan the robbery, which netted a record $6 million in cash and jewelry, and that he was a heavy in the Bonanno organized crime family when it held sway on the mob-infested streets of Queens and Brooklyn.
When they unsealed the indictment against Asaro last year, federal prosecutors described him as a onetime Bonanno family captain who used his power to extort money, to stage major heists and to kill those who crossed him, including a man strangled with a dog collar for being a suspected snitch.
Asaro, who has pleaded not guilty, could spend the rest of his life in prison if convicted.
The Lufthansa heist at John F. Kennedy International Airport was the "score of scores," assistant U.S. Atty. Lindsay Gerdes said in her opening statements on Oct. 19, describing Asaro as a "gangster through and through" who lived for money, power and the Mafia.
But times have changed for the old-time capos, captains, skippers and soldiers of the Cosa Nostra, who in Asaro's trial have come across more as whiny old men than wiseguys, griping on secret recordings about gambling debts and the lack of respect from the younger generation.
"I lost my son when I made him a skipper," Asaro, now 80, was heard grousing on a 2012 recording, referring to his son Jerry's promotion in the mob. In an obscenity-laced rant, Asaro went on to disparage his son, now in prison, as greedy, lazy and nowhere near the tough guy that his dad is.
"I feel like killing everybody," Asaro, in a particularly bad mood, snarled at one point on another 2012 recording.
As the recordings played in the courtroom, Asaro sat at the defense table looking more professorial than predatory in a gray V-neck sweater, button-down shirt, glasses and combed-back gray hair. But signs of temper flared as witnesses testified for the prosecution.
They included Asaro's cousin, Gaspare Valenti, who started wearing a wire in November 2008 after gambling away his take of the Lufthansa loot and other illegally acquired funds. Destitute, the 68-year-old Valenti testified that he struck a deal with the FBI to become an informant for $3,000 a month.
During Valenti's testimony, Asaro furiously scribbled notes on yellow Post-its and handed them to members of his defense team. He whispered loudly to his lawyers and at one point shook his head back and forth and mouthed "not true."
Asaro appeared so enraged that Judge Allyne R. Ross later warned him that his demeanor could affect the jury. "It's not in your best interest to draw attention to yourself," she said after jurors had been dismissed for the day.
Valenti violated the Cosa Nostra's code of silence and loyalty. So did Zuccaro, now 60, who began cooperating with the FBI five years before Valenti.
Both men's reasons for turning underscored the hardships of life in organized crime, where one misstep can turn a man into a pariah with a target on his back.
Zuccaro, who was associated first with the Bonanno family and later the Gambinos, described planning his first hit. He didn't know the man, who was ordered killed after calling a Bonanno family member a cornuto, or cuckold.
"It's probably one of the worst insults you can call an Italian — an Italian man, anyway," Zuccaro said. He "clocked" the target — studying his schedule and figuring out when he would come home — and then watched from across the street as another gangster shot him dead outside his house.
His victims weren't limited to human beings. Zuccaro testified that he once shot dead an attack dog that turned on him when he entered his Queens auto repair shop, in which Asaro also had a business interest. Zuccaro was in disguise after having just committed a robbery and said he suspected the dog did not recognize him.
Later that night, Zuccaro testified that Asaro showed up at his home with some fellow thugs, enraged over the dog's death and insisting that it was not Zuccaro's dog to kill.
"I paid for half the dog," said Zuccaro, who testified that he turned to his boss in the Bonanno family to settle the dispute.
Valenti and Zuccaro testified that over the years, they gambled away whatever money they had collected from hijackings, drugs, extortion and other crooked activities. Both admitted to a litany of crimes.
Asaro's defense attorneys say their client is being framed by turncoats who hope to get leniency in exchange for their cooperation with prosecutors.
Valenti and Zuccaro insisted that wasn't their chief reason for testifying. Rather, they said, they were tired after decades of crime — so tired that Zuccaro wasn't interested when the Gambino family invited him into its fold 15 years ago.
"A lot of years of watching what was going on, a lot of years of ups and downs," Zuccaro said. "I didn't need it."
Not long after that, facing a possible 20 years in prison on drug charges, he broke the first rule of the mob and became an informant.
"Loyalty is A Number 1," he said. "The family comes first, before your own family."
Asked about the other rules, Zuccaro said: "You gotta be a good earner. And a killer."
Zuccaro said he was both.

Mafia turncoat: ‘Goodfellas’ were livid after I killed guard dog
By Selim Algar
Killing mobsters who got out of line was routine for these “Goodfellas” gangsters — but dogs enjoyed a status more like “made” men, and whacking one could get your own ticket punched, a Gambino goon told jurors Wednesday.
Mafia enforcer turned canary Peter Zuccaro, testifying in the trial of Vincent Asaro for the $6 million 1978 Lufthansa heist, said the Bonanno wiseguy showed up to his home with three menacing pals — all featured prominently in the 1990 Martin Scorsese flick — because he’d killed a guard dog that attacked him.
Asaro brought with him a criminal All-Star team including characters immortalized by Joe Pesci, Robert De Niro and Samuel L. Jackson in the film, Zuccaro testified Wednesday.
The trained attack dog guarded an auto body shop owned by Zuccaro’s friend, he told jurors, but it didn’t recognize him because he was wearing a disguise after another robbery.
 “The dog zeroed in on me, jumped over the desk, didn’t recognize me and started chewing my arm,” he said. “I shot him in the head.”
Enraged by the mutt slay, Asaro brought his “Goodfellas” pals to confront him. “He showed up at my house that night with Jimmy Burke, Tommy DeSimone, Stacks Edwards, Frankie Burke [Jimmy’s son], and started threatening me,” Zuccaro testified.
The dispute grew so heated that then capo and future Bonanno family boss Joey Massino called sitdown to hear both sides of the canine controversy. He ordered them to settle the beef peacefully.
Zuccaro, who famously blamed former Gambino boss John Gotti’s extravagance for the mob’s eventual downfall, also told jurors that he gabbed about the Lufthansa heist with Frankie Burke soon after the score.
 “He stole the van,” Zuccaro recalled. “He drove the van and went and did the robbery. He told me Gaspare Valenti was there in Vinny’s capacity.”
In prior testimony, Valenti, Asaro’s turncoat cousin, told jurors that he and his relative both took part in the theft of more than $6 million in cash and jewels from Kennedy Airport. Asaro involved his cousin, Zuccaro said, to increase his cut of the loot.
Asaro, 80, the first person ever brought to trial for the Dec. 11, 1978 Lufthansa job, faces life in prison if convicted for that and a raft of mob crimes, including the 1969 killing of a suspected rat.




Trial highlights struggles of aging wise guys
By Lorenzo Ferrigno and Ray Sanchez CNN
NEW YORK (CNN) —In 2008, a lifelong Mafia associate picked up the phone and dialed a random number at the FBI in New York.
"I'd like to cooperate," Gaspare Valenti, now 68, recalled saying on the phone to a woman named Nora. She happened to head a federal law enforcement squad investigating the Bonanno crime family.
"I have remorse in me and need ways to support my family," Valenti said in the call.
For the next five years, Valenti arranged to receive about $3,000 a month to record conversations, including some with his first cousin, Vincent Asaro, an alleged Bonanno family captain.
The recordings were critical in bringing federal charges, more than 30 years after the crime, against five alleged Bonanno crime family members in the infamous Lufthansa heist that helped inspire part of the 1990 film "Goodfellas."The hours of wire and telephone recordings have been played in Asaro's federal trial in Brooklyn on a string of charges that include murder, racketeering and the 1978 airport heist.
With the tapes, prosecutors have sought to portray Asaro, 80, as an aging and broke wise guy, insecure of his position within the family and nostalgic for the days when an illegal and lucrative ecosystem controlled large swaths of New York with a degree of impunity.
Asaro's plight highlights the struggles of many aging wise guys, desperate to eke out a living while trying to remain relevant in a rapidly changing underworld, according to experts.
"It's no longer like it used to be," said Anthony DeStefano, a journalist who has covered organized crime for more than three decades and wrote "Gangland New York: The Places and Faces of Mob History."
"Somebody once told me the best job category you could have now is to be a government witness. ... You get some security from jail. You get some money. And you may get relocated and get a new life altogether."
'Down but not out'
Government crackdowns have thinned the Mafia ranks in recent decades.
Major arrests and convictions in the 1980s and 1990s crippled the mob. If they didn't get whacked first, top bosses faced multiple prosecutions and long prison terms. Among the big names to take perp walks over the years were John Gotti, Joseph Massino and Vincent Gigante.
The prosecutions "made a significant dent in the mob activity," said Kelly Langmesser, an FBI spokeswoman in New York. "The mob can be down, but not out. They always keep coming back."
Former Gambino family boss Gotti died of cancer in federal prison in 2002 while serving a life sentence for murder and racketeering. Gotti became the godfather of the Gambino family in 1985 and, shortly after, survived three criminal cases on charges ranging from assault to racketeering, before the feds finally convicted him of five murders in 1992.The testimony of a former friend and Gambino hitman, Sammy "the Bull" Gravano, helped bring Gotti down.
Massino, a member of the Bonanno family, agreed to cooperate with prosecutors and received two life sentences in 2005 after pleading guilty to involvement in eight mob murders. He later testified against multiple mob bosses.
Vincent Gigante, a boss in the Genovese crime family, died in prison in 2005 after his 1997 conviction for several crimes including racketeering and conspiring to murder in aid of racketeering.
"They're either dead like Gotti, or they turned government witness like Joe Massino, or they're in prison," DeStefano said.
'The old-time stuff' is gone
For those who remain on the street, the old-time rackets began to shrink.
"I'm not saying the mob can't do anything or can't hurt you," DeStefano said. "But the big rackets have been sort of tied up by the feds and the police. They don't exist. The big labor racketeering rackets, the big concrete syndicates, the big garment industry rackets don't exist anymore. You have local businesses, like the restaurants, maybe an auto body shop, that could be muscled by the mob. That's where it still works. But the old-time stuff, forget it."
After the September 11 terrorist attacks, some FBI squad personnel were shifted from organized crime to Asian and Russian syndicates. Counterterrorism and cybercrime units were created and beefed up with agents who previously worked in the organized crime division, Langmesser said.
"Even though our priorities changed after September 11 and more ethnic crime groups grew in the city ... our arrest records show that we are still making cases against them," Langmesser said.
In 2011, for instance, the FBI arrested 120 mobsters, she said.
No mob retirement plan
Valenti was one former mobster who apparently found some security as -- in the vernacular of the mob -- a rat.
Back when he rolled with Mafia big shots, Valenti testified in federal district court, he was at John F. Kennedy Airport one night 37 years ago during the Lufthansa heist.
Valenti admitted to cutting open a gate so a van could pass through and enable associates to steal more than $5 million in cash and $1 million in jewelry, according to testimony.
At the time of Valenti's call to the FBI, no charges had been filed against anyone for what was then the biggest heist in American history.
Like many aging mobsters, Valenti was broke. The mob has no retirement plan. He had spent years borrowing money, gambling it away and rarely paying it back. Now, he had a new baby girl to support.
"They are basically living sort of scheme to scheme," DeStefano said of the old mobsters.
'We did it to ourselves'
The recordings played at Asaro's trial picked up multiple instances in which the defendant and Valenti speak about earning money and then gambling away large sums.
"What a shame. Look what we came down to," Valenti told Asaro in one recorded conversation.
"It's life. We did it to ourselves," Asaro replied. "It's a curse with this f*****g gambling."
A few months later, Asaro told Valenti that he had just played Texas Hold 'em poker for the first time and was happy with his wins.
"I won $200. $280, the pot was, uh, $280 -- I had to pay $80, I had to buy in again."
The cousins reminisced about a card game years earlier when Asaro won a $37,000 pot.
"Those were the games, man. That's when money was loose," Valenti said.
"I gave the kid a thousand-dollar tip that night," Asaro said. "We used to play that at John's club, $1,000 a hand." Valenti testified that the reference was to Gotti.
Michael Franzese, who describes himself as a former boss with the Colombo organized crime family, called Asaro "a dinosaur," part of a legion of "made guys" who were not real earners in their day and were now forced to scrounge around for scores.
"Things you were able to make money on aren't available anymore," Franzese told CNN. "They don't have the same unions. There aren't the same card games and runners. Neighborhoods have dried up with a lot of the Italian dominance we once had."
'They're gonna take my badge away'
In the taped conversations, Asaro appears to reveal his insecurity with his place in the family ranks. In September 2011, he told Valenti he was worried about his "badge," or status, being knocked down because he had lashed out against associates.
"They're gonna throw me outta the place ... they're gonna take my badge away, you're gonna see. It's gonna happen. I know it's gonna happen," Asaro said.
"Cause I had a big beef last week," he continued. "Screaming at them. 'I want my f*****g money.' I'm broke, I'm getting like a f*****g animal. Two wise guys -- I know they're gonna be talking."
In November 2011, the cousins spoke about a New York boss who was killed in Canada. Asaro suggested to Valenti that he might be losing power and influence.
"I don't know what the f**k is going on in Canada. I don't even know what's going on in Ozone Park," Asaro told Valenti.
On cross-examination, Valenti told Asaro attorney Elizabeth Macedonio he had met with "six or seven" FBI agents "more than 150 times" since he began cooperating.
Asaro, a tattoo of the Mafia mantra "Death before dishonor" tucked beneath his shirt, sat in court and gasped in disbelief.
"More than 150?" he repeated to himself, shaking his head.
Asaro's lawyers have said the government's case against him is built on the testimony of criminals who cut deals with the prosecution.
In opening statements, Asaro attorney Diane Ferrone called the government's witnesses "criminal cooperators" with a motive to lie. She noted Valenti's history of borrowing money he couldn't pay back and accused him of cooperating "to make a buck. ... His latest con victim is the U.S. government."
Many old-line gangsters remain adrift and unmoored from the old life, "a life that doesn't exist anymore," said DeStefano, the mob expert. 

Fukuoka pachinko parlors band together against yakuza

$
0
0


By Tokyo Reporter on October 31, 2015No Comment
The manager of a parlor consulted with police after having paid 40 million yen to gangsters over a 15-year period

A pachinko parlor in Kitakyushu (Zonegroup)
FUKUOKA (TR) – Following revelations last month that a pachinko parlor managerhad been paying off gangsters, a gaming cooperative is offering help, reports theMainichi Shimbun (Oct. 30).
On Friday, the Fukuoka Prefecture Games Industry Cooperative held a meeting attended by 450 parlor managers and employees at a hotel in Hakata Ward to provide guidance about how to avoid paying organized crime.
“Together, like a rugby scrum, we are united in our desire to remove organized crime from the industry,” said the 64-year-old board chairman of the cooperative.
In September, a manager of a pair of pachinko parlors in Kitakyushu City consulted with police after paying a total of 40 million yen in protection money — termedmikajimeryo — to two bosses in the Kitakyushu-based Kudo-kai over a 15-year period.
The manager opened his first shop in 2000. He has paid the Kudo-kai twice annually, once during the obon holiday period and again at the end of the year. He opened his second shop five years later. For this business, payments to the gang amounted to 100,000 yen each month.
In 2010, Fukuoka Prefecture enacted legislation that bans such payments.

The message conveyed at the meeting was that parlors should refuse demands from gangsters. As well, should problems develop, they should contact police immediately.

What Happened to the Mafia in Williamsburg?

$
0
0

November 4, 2015

by John Surico

In a city like New York, the past dies a fresh death every day. As you read this, something special is being built over, transformed, forgotten, or turned into a Pret a Manger. That's the consequence of constant change: Nothing is permanent, and what memories we have are destined to be demolished by, or for, our descendants.
We're now building faster than we ever have before, and the sheer breadth of differences separating today's New York from what the city was 30 or even 15 years ago is extreme. One could argue that there has never been a time in New York where its incoming citizens have been more detached from—or completely unaware of—the city's recent history.
What was and what now is are nearly unidentifiable twins. And one of the most visible examples of this can be found in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, a neighborhood that enjoys a storied legacy of organized crime and Mafia activity.
"It was not necessarily the center of a lot of violence, but it's where many future bosses got their start."—Christian Cipollini
As anyone who has ever read the New York Times style section is well aware, Williamsburg is now synonymous with a hodgepodge of conflicting labels: hipster, yuppie, gentrifier, bourgeoise. In a way, the fire last year at a Williamsburg archive became an unfortunate symbol of the times: Developers have essentially pressed the restart button on newcomers' consciousness. You don't need to remember shit, just make sure you've got first and last month's rent.
Condos glisten above the once-abandoned East River waterfront; empty warehouses are now "loft-inspired luxury townhouses," and Bedford Avenue, a thoroughfare once littered with syringes, is now swarming with selfie stick–carrying tour groups and SoHo-style boutiques. But before it was a playground for real estate brokers, Williamsburg was a mob stronghold. In fact, the Brooklyn neighborhood stretching from the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway down to Grand Street—now known primarily by the broker-invented monicker of East Williamsburg—was not only a hangout for members of the five families of New York, but also one of their original locales.
"It was not necessarily the center of a lot of violence, but it's where many future bosses got their start," Christian Cipollini, a well-known mob expert and editor of Gangland Legends, told me. "When they came to America from Sicily, they chose their spots. And a lot of them came and settled in Williamsburg."
Long before Whole Foods announced plans for a block-sized store there, the Castellammarese crime clans called Williamsburg home. And at the tail end of Prohibition, a bloody war broke out between those loyal to a man named Salvatore Maranzano on one side and Joseph "the Boss" Masseria on the other. Both men were killed in 1931, and Charles "Lucky" Luciano stepped in to help establish five distinct crime families and offer some sense of structure to the American Mafia.
"What began in small places, like Williamsburg and Brownsville, spread across the country," Cipollini continued. "It changed the face of organized crime in America."
________________________________________
On a recent jaunt in Williamsburg, I stepped into Fortunato Brothers, an ornate Italian cafe on Manhattan Avenue, for a cup of coffee. The place itself is a rarity in New Brooklyn, where overpriced coffee shops are the rule, not traditional pastry makers with an autographed photo of Tony Bennett on the wall. And that showed in the spot's clientele: Mostly Italian-speaking residents ordered at the counter, and no one plugged into a Macbook was spotted anywhere near it.
For those who pass it on their way to the L train, it looks like an ordinary Italian bakery full of artifacts from the homeland, rainbow-colored cookies, and cannoli. Nowhere, of course, does it say that the co-owner of the place, Mario Fortunato, was once chargedand convicted for the 1994 murder of a loan shark named Tino Lombardi at the San Giuseppe Social Club just up the block. (The conviction would later be overturned on appeal; in fact, Fortunato won a $300,000 settlement last year.)
But the man's status as an alleged Genovese associate is apparently still so entrenched that the lawyer of a handicapped woman who sued the bakery for not providing an access ramp dropped the case this past June because he was concerned "for [her] safety," the woman told the Daily News. "I used to make a joke about the men standing outside," she told the paper. "I called them 'The Godfathers.'"
Michael D'Urso, a cousin of Tino Lombardi who was wounded in the shooting that killed the loan shark, later handed the government 500 hours worth of tape, leading to the arrests of 45 alleged Gambino family goodfellas in 2001. By doing so, D'Urso, who was known for hanging out at social clubs in Williamsburg, became one of the most prolific rats in Mafia history.
At the time, the Daily News described East Williamsburg as "an old-fashioned Italian-American neighborhood, with pork stores stocked with plump salamis and fresh smoked mozzarella and cafes that serve espresso." Now a tattoo spot sits next to Fortunato Bros., and the sound of jackhammers at new condo sites can be heard along the street outside. The social club where bullets once flew is long gone, and the bakery's sign looks a bit decayed.

...even the mob can't afford the rent anymore.

Yet the Italian-American energy of the area lingers. Longtime residents hang red, white, and green flags from their windows, while restaurants' doors remain plastered with signs for upcoming Italian festivals. Graham Avenue itself is alternatively called "Via Vespucci," and you can overhear Italian on some corners. Still, the ethnic enclave seems strange for a neighborhood as developed as Williamsburg is now. The immigrant is increasingly out of place here.
Up Graham Ave, I met an older man named Jimmy, who told me he moved to the neighborhood in 1952, during the post-war boom, and has lived there ever since. He pointed to all the stores in front of us—a hummus market, an "urban puppy hotel," another damn coffee shop—and said, "None of this was ever here before." The area, he added, was "much more Italian"; now it's prime real estate. "Everywhere you go, there's a condo being built. It's terrible."
The corner on which I spoke to Jimmy features an architect's office and one of those expensive old-school barbers that are popular now, but was once a well-known crime family headquarters called the Motion Lounge.
It was there that Joseph D. Pistone, the undercover FBI agent better known as Donnie Brasco, infiltrated the Bonanno crime family for six years. That's the same clan at the center of the trial of Vincent Asaro, an alleged participant in the Lufthansa heist ofGoodfellas fame. The undercover operation ultimately led to more than 100 convictionsof capos, soldiers, made men, and wiseguys, and a pretty decent movie starring Al Pacino and Johnny Depp.
I asked Jimmy if he remembers how long the Motion Lounge, and the Mafia life it brought with it, had been closed. "For a while now," he replied. "It left with the rest of the neighborhood."
Apparently, even the mob can't afford the rent anymore.
Graham Avenue Meats & Deli, just a few buildings down, also began to fade from the collective memory last year. The now-shuttered spot was once notorious to old-timers and newcomers alike for its enormous sandwiches—"The Godfather" being one of them—and was run by an alleged Bonanno wiseguy named Michael "the Butcher" Virtuoso, who died after pleading guilty to running a loan sharking business out of the back of the store.
According to FBI testimony, Virtuoso had a Rolodex of mob contacts there, with entries that are just fun to say out loud: "Vinny Gorgeous,""Johnny Sideburns,""Little Anthony," to name a few. He faced two and a half years in prison at the time of his death.
But local business owners I spoke with were completely unaware. They had only heard the owner passed away—not that he was apparently deeply entrenched in a Mafia crime family as of last year. No one seemed to know, really. When I asked a young guy at a cafe about it, he shrugged, and looked back down at his phone. Others followed suit.
Based on my observations, it was safe to say that the young woman jogging by, wearing a shirt that read, "The gym is my happy hour," probably has no idea that this used to be an area where you could get killed if you saw something you weren't supposed to see.
In the times I've dined at Bamonte's Restaurant, the last stop on my mini Williamsburg mob tour, it felt like I was transported back to the scene in Goodfellas, shot from Henry Hill's point of view, when he's introducing the litany of mobsters to the viewers ("And then there was Johnny Two Times...."). The women still come in wearing flashy fur coats, with blown-out bobs, and the men are in slick suits, carrying thick accents. The food is great, too.
"I used to go there three, four times a week," Anthony "Fat Tony" Rabito, the alleged consigliere of the Bonanno family, told a friend in 2009, according to the New York Post. "They got great mussels."
After being released from prison for racketeering and extortion, Rabito was reportedly told by the feds in 2009 that he could no longer dine at Bamonte's, nor three other New York Italian restaurants, because they were "hot."' Prosecutors said then that the Williamsburg hang, which is nestled near McCarren Park and now boxed in by high-rises, was where Rabito held court to discuss mafioso matters, although the restaurant itself didn't have any crime ties. But the location makes sense: Rabito was one of the many mobsters who were booked back in the day by Donnie Brasco, in his case on drug charges.
Peering inside Bamonte's window, I was surprised to see a bearded bartender on the younger side, cleaning up before the day's work. I had this weird sense then that this is how the mob relics of the neighborhood will continue to function— as a culinary institution, not a hangout—while organized crime becomes less and less compatible with the city in 2015. Even if some ephemera are fresh, it's safe to say the Mafia has largely been outmoded by modernity, completely avoidable to those moving through the safer, glitzier neighborhood.
Still, the Mafia persists in some form in modern New York—increasingly toothless, perhaps, after years of prosecution, but functioning in different modes. In Williamsburg, the remnants of the former nabe are pretty deeply buried. It's not the seedy past of a neighborhood that we ought to romanticize or long for, but it is something we would do well not to forget.
"Of course, you need that change to happen," Cipollini, the mob expert, told me. "But really, you're losing a part of the city's history. And you have to ask yourself: What legacy did they leave behind?"
Follow John Surico on Twitter

Author now believes judge didn't leak info to mob

$
0
0


By Jane Ann Morrison
Las Vegas Review-Jourbal

Retired FBI agent and author Gary Magnesen has changed his mind.
He no longer believes the late U.S. District Judge Harry Claiborne was leaking materials from FBI search warrant affidavits to the mob in the early 1980s, as he wrote in his 2010 book, "Straw Men."
He thinks Frank "Lefty" Rosenthal was a double agent, providing information to the FBI, then turning around and telling the Chicago mob what agents would be doing.
That way the good guys and the bad guys ended up protecting him while he played them.
In Magnesen's opinion, "Oscar Goodman, The Outfit and the FBI were all duped by the master oddsmaker and manipulator, Frank 'Lefty' Rosenthal." Goodman was Rosenthal's attorney.
One example of Rosenthal's double agent role came to be known as "the Cookie Caper" and proved to be a huge embarrassment to the FBI in January 1982 during an investigation into skimming at the Stardust.
Rosenthal, as a top echelon informant, provided information to the FBI about how millions of dollars were skimmed and transported from the Stardust when businessman Allen Glick owned four Las Vegas hotels between 1974 and 1979, but Rosenthal actually ran them. The ownership changed, but the skimming continued until the Boyd Gaming Group bought the hotels in 1985.
Glick was just a front, a straw man, for the mob. But he testified against the mob in the Kansas City trials in 1985, portraying himself as an unwitting victim.
Rosenthal neither testified against the mob nor was indicted in the skimming investigations.
Rosenthal told the FBI how the money was moved from the Stardust to the Chicago mob.
Magnesen detailed how agents watched as Stardust casino manager Bobby Stella carried a grocery bag from the casino on Tuesday afternoons and met Phil Ponto, another Stardust employee, and gave him the paper bag, which he took to his apartment. On Sundays, agents watched as Ponto would put the bag in his car trunk and drive to church. Afterward, he traveled to another store parking lot and met Joe Talerico, a Teamster, who put the bag in his trunk.
Talerico then flew to Chicago via Los Angeles and met with mob boss Joseph Aiuppa in a restaurant. After dinner, the much traveled bag landed in Aiuppa's trunk.
Mob money on the move wasn't enough to build a case.
The FBI applied for a search warrant for Talerico's car, and Claiborne gave his approval.
Magnesen now believes Rosenthal tipped the mobsters about the upcoming search.
In January 1982, agents moved in, only to find cookies and a bottle of wine. No cash. Plenty of embarrassment.
In "Straw Men," Magnesen suspected that the judge, who committed suicide in 2004, was leaking information from FBI search warrant affidavits.
Another time, based on Rosenthal's information, agents decided to bug the executive booth at a Stardust restaurant, Aku Aku, hoping to catch Stella talking about the skim. Again, they sought approval from Judge Claiborne. Once the listening device was installed, the executives talked about innocuous subjects. Women. Weather. Golf. Almost as if they were taunting the FBI, Magnesen said.
Who leaked the information about the Aku Aku bug and Talerico's travels is akin to the other never-answered question: Who planted the bomb under Rosenthal's car in October 1982?
Theories are rampant. It's almost a trivial pursuit question for locals to theorize on who did it.
Was it Spilotro, who had an affair with Rosenthal's wife, Geri? Was it the Chicago Outfit?
Once again, Magnesen has a theory.
He believes it was ordered by Nick Civella, the Kansas City mob boss, who was tired of all the trouble Rosenthal had been creating in Las Vegas with his TV show and his seemingly endless quest for a gaming license. "Civella was dying of cancer and didn't care what Chicago thought about Lefty," Magnesen wrote in an email summary of his views. The bombing was 1982, Civella died in 1983.
Magnesen said he interviewed mob figure Joe Agosto a few weeks before he died in August 1983. Agosto said he had told Civella in 1977, "That Lefty. He's getting out of hand. He's stirring up dirt all over Vegas. He's dangerous. He could cause big problems with his big mouth and his TV show."
My favorite story of the bombing was from retired UPI Correspondent Myram Borders, who was driving home from the UPI office and passed Tony Roma's restaurant on Sahara Avenue. She heard a boom and saw Rosenthal's car blow up. She quickly turned into the parking lot.
"He scrambled out of the car and was jumping up and down patting his clothes. His hair was standing straight up … I didn't know if it was because of his recent hair transplant or the explosion that made it stand up so straight," she wrote in an email. "When I ran up and asked him what was going on, Lefty said 'They are trying to kill me.' When I asked who, he shut up."
Rosenthal died a natural death in 2008 in Florida. He was 79.
Magnesen said he wouldn't have said these things publicly about Rosenthal, but now it is widely known that Rosenthal was an informant. (I was the first to report it after his death.)
Of course, when Rosenthal cooperated with author Nick Pileggi for the book "Casino," he didn't reveal his informant status. Nor did that make it into the 1995 movie.
When the movie came out, Rosenthal said, "The way you saw it in the movie is just the way it happened."
Well, not exactly. He left a few historical holes.
— Jane Ann Morrison's column runs Thursdays. Leave messages for her at 702-383-0275 or emailjmorrison@reviewjournal.com. Find her on Twitter: @janeannmorrison


Real Estate investor Tamara Rand killed after messing with the mob

$
0
0


Reported by: Tom Hawley
Email: thawley@sbgtv.com


LAS VEGAS (KSNV News3LV) – This month marks the 20th anniversary of the release of Martin Scorsese’s "Casino” – a movie which unlike many others set in Las Vegas – gets it right.
In this Video Vault, we look at one small scene from that movie that happened 40 years ago.
“Well it was based on a woman named Tamara Rand who was a real estate investor in San Diego,” says the Mob Museum’s Geoff Schumacher.
 “Who was really the front man for the Argent* Corporation, which owned the Stardust and three other hotels in Las Vegas,” explains Schumacher. “But, of course, which was secretly operated by the Chicago outfit and other Midwestern mob groups.”
Joe Bonpensiero picked up the story, talking about his uncle, Frank “Bomp” Bompensiero: “Frank had a good reputation in the Midwest, in the East Coast -- Chicago, Kansas.”
Bompensiero operated out of San Diego, where Rand lived and Glick had gotten his start. Joe says his uncle Frank was acquainted with Las Vegas muscle man Tony Spilotro, played in the movie by Joe Pesci as Nicki Santoro.
“Spilotro, being from Chicago, etcetera, or back and here. Not familiar with the area,” Joe said. “Turned to somebody he knew that lived there he could trust. And that would have been Frank.”
Spilotro had been sent to San Diego because Rand was suing Glick, having been a silent partner in his enterprises.
“She invested in it on the premise that she wanted to get into the casino business,” says Schumacher. “But she felt like Glick had betrayed her, and that he had not honored his obligations.”
The lawsuit would have meant opening the Stardust account records, exposing the skim.
“But before she could start counting her money, the boys back home decided to settle the case out of court instead. So they called me,” says Santoro/Spilotro in the movie.
Rand was shot five times with a .22-caliber gun, Spilotro’s weapon of choice. The movie implies Spilotro made the hit solo, and Bompensiero is not represented.
“They were together,” Joe explained emphatically. “No question about it.”
Was Frank just a wheelman, or did he pull a trigger? All people can do is speculate.
“Where are they gonna get the information?” asks Joe rhetorically. “From the source? And they ain't talkin'! Or they're gonna go to the dead guy?”
The two men sent on the hit went out gangland style themselves. Bompensiero was shot in a phone booth in 1977; Spilotro, whose legal counsel in Las Vegas was future mayor Oscar Goodman, was beaten to death and buried in a cornfield in 1986.
Another Video Vault will shed a lot more light on Frank Bompensiero later this month.

Meanwhile, the Mob Museum is hosting a "Courtroom Conversations" discussion on the movie “Casino” with legendary Las Vegas broadcasters Gwen Castaldi and Bob Stoldal on Saturday, Nov. 7. 

Prosecutor: Mobster accused in $6 million 'Goodfellas' heist embraced Mafia lifestyle

$
0
0

NEW YORK (AP) — An aging mobster who stayed in shadows for decades by adhering to the Mafia's strict code of silence should finally be held accountable for his crimes including the 1978 airport heist that was retold in "Goodfellas," a prosecutor told jurors on Friday.
Vincent Asaro, whose grandfather and father were members of the secretive Bonanno organized crime family, "was born into that life and he fully embraced it," Assistant U.S. Attorney Alicyn Cooley told a jury in Brooklyn. "The defendant was a rare breed in the Mafia — a third-generation wiseguy."
The defendant's devotion to the crime family "was as permanent as the 'death before dishonor' tattoo on his arm," Cooley added at a trial that's given the jury a lesson in the lifestyle of gangsters from a bygone era.
The prosecutor described how Asaro rose through the ranks and developed an "unbreakable bond" with the more notorious James "Jimmy the Gent" Burke, the late Lucchese crime family associate who orchestrated the armed robbery of a Lufthansa cargo terminal at Kennedy Airport. According to trial testimony, Burke — played by Robert de Niro in the film — and Asaro also teamed up to kill a suspected informant with a dog chain.
Asaro showed that "when necessary, he'd kill to enforce La Cosa Nostra's code of silence," Cooley said in a daylong closing argument.
The defense was to give its summation on Monday.
Asaro, 80, has pleaded not guilty to murder, extortion and other charges.
Until his arrest in 2014, Asaro was an obscure mobster who had only been convicted of lesser crimes. He survived a bloodbath portrayed in "Goodfellas," with De Niro's character going ballistic over fellow mobsters' purchases of flashy cars and furs and, fearing they would attract law enforcement attention, having them whacked.
But that changed in 2008, when Asaro's cousin, mob associate Gaspare Valenti, agreed to became a cooperator and wear a wire to try to implicate Asaro in the holdup and other old crimes. Taking the witness stand last month, Valenti testified that Asaro ordered him to join the robbery crew, telling him, "Jimmy Burke has a big score at the airport coming up, and you're invited to go."
Asaro was "very happy, really euphoric" when he learned about the mountain of $100 bills and jewels scored in the heist, Valenti testified.
"We thought there was going to be $2 million in cash and there was $6 million," the witness said.
Cooley's summation on Friday stretched nearly six hours as she methodically detailed what she called "45 crime-filled years" of Asaro's life, including several less-compelling allegations of loansharking that prosecutors say he resorted to when his $750,000 cut of the Lufthansa heist ran out.
The defendant looked alert and engaged throughout, muttering and passing notes to his lawyers. He even smiled and waved to supporters only moments after hearing the prosecutor's coda.
"Even though it's been delayed for too long," Cooley said, "justice is still within reach."

Copyright 2015 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Criminologist connects Mafia with Chicago street gangs

$
0
0

Brian Flood

UIC professor John Hagedorn has studied gangs for over three decades. But he was forced to rethink much of what he knew about gangs while researching and writing his latest book, The In$ane Chicago Way.
The book was developed after three years of interviews with a soldier from Chicago’s Mafia, also known as the Outfit. Hagedorn’s source dishes on a covert 1990s plan by Chicago gangs to establish a Latino Mafia modeled after Al Capone’s mob.
Hagedorn said the organization of Latino gangs, called Spanish Growth and Development (SGD), was formed by 17 Latin Folks gangs, including the C-Note$, a group he describes as a Grand Avenue-based “minor league” team of the Outfit.
“Their role was to attempt to channel this new form under the Outfit’s influence,” said Hagedorn, professor of criminology, law and justice, who said he’d never heard of the plan until informed by his tipster.
The book augments the disgruntled informant’s perspective with secret documents and interviews of top leaders, court records and media reports.
Hagedorn talked to city gang leaders, who agreed there was plenty of money to be made for everybody involved. From those discussions, a similar question arose. Why didn’t the plan work?
“These gangs form families and are contending for power,” Hagedorn explained. “They also rely on police corruption.”
The group’s demise was sealed when a “war of the families,” or factional struggle for power, led to a shooting shortly after a gang-organized peace conference, he said. The incident was the final straw for the Outfit, which withdrew from the endeavor.
The In$ane Chicago Way reports on the role of police corruption and the differences between Latino, black and white gangs, and their relationship to organized crime.
Hagedorn tells the story of how the 1990s shaped the nature of gang organizations today.
He details how organized gang wars, led by incarcerated gang chiefs, produced homicide rates in the 1990s that were double current levels.

Gang leaders lack authority to stop violence
“The wars didn’t end because of any new police tactics, but rather they exhausted and fractured the gangs and broke the hold of the old gang leaders,” he explained. “Today’s black gang members particularly are rebellious even against their old gang chiefs.”
Shootings today are more spontaneous, and less controlled, which makes them more dangerous, Hagedorn said.
“Young men hand out violent street justice as retaliation since police can’t seem to find the actual offenders,” he said. “Gang leaders today simply do not have the legitimacy, organization or authority to stop the shootings.”
The current violence problem in Chicago is predominantly about race, not gangs, guns, laws or cartels, Hagedorn said.
While asserting that an easy answer to reduce violence doesn’t exist, he contends any plan must be based on a steep investment in African American communities.
“Chicago’s leaders must address the city’s legacy of racism in employment, housing, education and policing,” he said. “The best way to prevent violence is to provide hope to the desperate underclass of African Americans in our city.”
- See more at: http://news.uic.edu/criminologist-connects-mafia-with-chicago-street-gangs#sthash.qIQiZ1NN.dpuf


Trial of Vincent Asaro Highlights Loss of Mafia’s Code of Silence

$
0
0


By STEPHANIE CLIFFORD
NOV. 9, 2015

After he had helped pull off one of the biggest cash robberies in American history — the Lufthansa heist of 1978 — and stashed millions of dollars, along with burlap sacks of gold chains, crates of watches, and diamonds and emeralds, in his cousin’s basement,Vincent Asaro thought first about the code: Protect the family.
 “He says, ‘We got to be real careful now,’” his cousin testified. “‘Don’t spend anything. Don’t buy anything major.’”
He kept quiet, but another part of Mr. Asaro, a Mafia yeoman working his way up through New York’s Bonanno crime family, could not resist. He bought a Bill Blass-model Lincoln and a Formula speedboat — symbols of a man who wanted to belong.
Mr. Asaro did not realize his world was vanishing.
Born in 1935, he entered the same business as his father and grandfather, also Mafia members: a company man even if the company business was murder and extortion. Growing old, Mr. Asaro stayed in his old neighborhood in Queens, shopping at Waldbaum’s, sticking with the routines he knew.
By then, though, other organized crime groups were squeezing out the New York Mafia with new, sophisticated businesses. More devastatingly for him, Mr. Asaro’s friends, superiors and even a relative began informing on him to the government — providing the material that allowed prosecutors to bring charges after all these years, and shredding the Mafia code that defined his life.
Now 80, Mr. Asaro has spent the last three weeks in Federal District Court in Brooklyn, the sole defendant in what may be one of the last big Mafia trials, accused of crimes including a 1969 murder, the Lufthansa heist at Kennedy International Airport — a plot point in the Martin Scorsese movie “Goodfellas” — other robberies and extortions. His arm tattoo has been covered up by sweaters. It reads, “Death Before Dishonor.”
In closing arguments, Elizabeth Macedonio, a defense lawyer, portrayed the cooperating Mafia witnesses as liars, and Mr. Asaro as someone who, despite years of being surveilled by federal agents, was never once caught doing anything wrong.
The case, which went to the jury Monday evening, has depicted a Mafia life from a time when the organization still ruled New York, drawn from testimony, recorded conversations, wiretapped phone calls, court filings and F.B.I. surveillance records going back 40 years. Vincent Asaro was brought down in his old age by a violation of the codes he so embraced; his is the story of the disappearing New York Mafia, and of a disappearing way of life.
To get by around Ozone Park, Queens, in the 1950s and ’60s, teenagers had to figure certain things out pretty young. “Down the hole” was an Italian area on the border with Brooklyn. Savvy lottery players picked lucky combinations from the Daily News horse-race charts. And, several people testified, around the time they became teenagers, they realized where the power in the neighborhood lay.
Peter Zuccaro, a Mafia associate who testified at Mr. Asaro’s trial, got into a fight over a customer’s not paying for goods at the auto-parts shop where Mr. Zuccaro worked. He was in danger until a Bonanno member intervened, a display of the raw power he came to crave. “It was the thing to do,” he said. “I wanted to be a made member of organized crime.”
The five New York families each have a boss, an underboss and a consigliere ruling them. Captains follow, then soldiers. Under that are associates, who are not made, or inducted, members.
Salvatore Vitale, a former Bonanno underboss, explained the rules: You did not cooperate with law enforcement. You did not sleep with another member’s wife or daughter. You could sell only pot, not other drugs.
Are the rules broken? an assistant United States attorney, Nicole M. Argentieri, asked him.
“All the time,” Mr. Vitale replied.
This was the family business Mr. Asaro seemed destined for. Anthony Ruggiano Jr., whose father, known as Fat Andy, was a Gambino soldier, began noticing Mr. Asaro when he saw him at Aqueduct or around the neighborhood. Fat Andy said that Mr. Asaro was going to be a third-generation wiseguy, and “thought it was a great thing,” Mr. Ruggiano testified.
By the 1960s, Mr. Asaro was known as an “earner” in the Bonannos, a prosecutor, Lindsay Gerdes, said. His cousin Gaspare Valenti, a Bonanno associate before he started cooperating with the government, testified about the early crimes they committed together, like hijacking truckloads of Oleg Cassini shirts. The “scores” were often at the direction of James Burke, a powerful Mafia associate who was Irish. (In “Goodfellas,” Robert De Niro plays the character based on Mr. Burke.)
In 1969, prosecutors said, Mr. Asaro graduated to murder.
One Sunday in 1969, Mr. Asaro and Mr. Burke met Mr. Valenti at a house Mr. Valenti’s father was building in Queens, bringing a sledgehammer and a shovel. “Vinny came up the steps,” Mr. Valenti testified, “and said, ‘We have to bury somebody.’” Mr. Valenti thought he was joking; he was not. The body was that of Paul Katz, a man Mr. Asaro suspected of being a government informant. Mr. Asaro and Mr. Burke had strangled the man with a dog chain, according to Mr. Valenti. Mr. Valenti said he helped them bury the body underneath the basement concrete.
In the late 1970s, Mr. Asaro was formally inducted into the Bonannos: Vinny Asaro was a made man. Mr. Zuccaro recalled being at a club called Little Cricket that night. When Mr. Asaro walked in, someone played a song called “Wise Guy,” and then “the whole neighborhood knew,” Mr. Zuccaro said. Soon, Mr. Asaro would show he merited the honor.
Rolf Rebmann was working his usual midnight-to-7-a.m. shift at Building 26 at Kennedy Airport on Dec. 11, 1978, when he heard a “holler” from outside the terminal. His co-workers were upstairs in the lunchroom for their 3 a.m. meal break, so Mr. Rebmann, a Lufthansa security guard, walked outside to see a man standing near a black Ford van.
“I asked him if I could help him, and he said ‘No,’ and stuck a gun in my face and told me to get in the van face down,” Mr. Rebmann testified.
The assailants wanted Mr. Rebmann’s keys to open the overhead door, and then they walked him upstairs to the lunchroom. “Somebody kept saying: ‘Just do as you’re told, do as you’re told. We don’t want to hurt anybody.’”
Led by Mr. Burke, they had been tipped off to the valuable cargo shipments by an airport employee.
They had pulled off what was then billed as the largest cash robbery in United States history, stealing $5 million in cash and $1 million in jewels.
Gaspare Valenti, who testified he was one of the two men who attacked the guards, said Mr. Asaro had allowed him to come. In planning sessions at the Queens social club Robert’s Lounge, Mr. Burke, Mr. Asaro, Mr. Valenti and several other men looked over airport plans, and agreed to visit the terminal at least twice to map out escape routes, Mr. Valenti testified.
Mr. Asaro drove Mr. Valenti to Mr. Burke’s house the night of the robbery, giving him a .38 hammerless pistol and an instruction: “‘Anything happens, just stand your ground and continue to do the robbery the best you can,’” Mr. Asaro told him, Mr. Valenti testified. Mr. Asaro and Mr. Burke said they would wait in a decoy car a mile away, and the others piled into a van and headed for the terminal.
When they got into the vault, one of the robbers, Tommy DeSimone, took a box from a shelf and stepped on it, Mr. Valenti testified. “The yellow Styrofoam popcorn popped out of the boxes, and Tommy put his hand in there, and he pulled out two packages of money,” Mr. Valenti said. “Tommy says, ‘This is it! This is it!’”
After unloading the haul in Mr. Valenti’s basement, Mr. Asaro left for Fat Andy’s social club. When Mr. Valenti, feeling “euphoria,” met him at Fat Andy’s, Mr. Asaro issued his warning to be careful. Mr. Asaro was: He stayed away from Mr. Valenti for a while, kicked up $100,000 to his captain, distributed jewelry to the Five Families to keep the peace and asked friends to hold on to the cash so it wasn’t in one place. He even worried that throwing out the cardboard boxes that contained the cash might draw unwanted attention. So he came up with the idea for Mr. Valenti to sell Christmas trees, so a cheery bonfire would not look out of place.
He had reason for the concern. Headlines throughout that December blared about the daring robbery, and by just after Christmas, agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation were watching Mr. Asaro visit Mr. Burke’s house in Queens.
Style of the 1950s
In the years after Lufthansa, the participants who were still around had enough money that they should have been able to stop working. Mr. Valenti got his $750,000 share, as did Mr. Asaro. Most of the others were killed or disappeared (deaths prosecutors attribute in part to Mr. Burke, who died in 1996 while serving his sentence).
Mr. Asaro, smart enough to stay alive, aware enough not to talk too much about Lufthansa, apparently still wanted a little fun. He gambled heavily, and started a Rockaway Boulevard nightclub called Afters, which Mr. Valenti said was a reference to “After Lufthansa.”
Mr. Asaro acted, in some ways, as if it were the 1950s and the mob were at its height. He placed bets at Aqueduct. He played handball and paddleball, poker and Continental. He oversaw truck hijackings and armored-car robberies. In a series of surveillance photographs, he seemed the picture of easy confidence. He even waved at an F.B.I. agent one day, according to testimony.
But it was the 1980s, and the Mafia, after years of prosperity and influence, was beginning a steep decline. The police and F.B.I. agentsinfiltrated the mob. Federal prosecutors charged the bosses of the Five Families using a powerful racketeering act, and four of the five were imprisoned (the fifth was killed before trial). Suddenly, even friendly local politicians stopped supporting the families.
On the other side, the Mafia was getting squeezed by crime syndicatesfrom Japan, Russia, Mexico and Eastern Europe doing drug trafficking, human trafficking and arms dealing. The mob, though it still made money from extortion and gambling, was not evolving, and neither was Mr. Asaro.
Into the 1990s, Mr. Asaro was still threatening neighborhood shops. An Ozone Park resident, Guy Gralto, testified that when he opened his chop shop in the 1990s, Mr. Asaro asked for “protection money.” When Mr. Gralto could not pay, Mr. Asaro hit him and said that “when he was done with me my mother wouldn’t be able to ID my body,” Mr. Gralto testified.
But as he grew older, his bosses considered Mr. Asaro “hostile,” as Mr. Vitale, the former Bonanno underboss, put it. In the 1990s, the boss demoted Mr. Asaro because “he was abusing his leadership position by ‘robbing’ the individuals who reported to him,” and was low on money from too much gambling, prosecutors wrote. Prosecutors do not name the mob boss in the papers, but the details they give match those of Joseph C. Massino, who later began cooperating with the government. Prosecutors discussed calling him to testify at Mr. Asaro’s trial, according to transcripts.
An enfeebled New York Mafia limped into the new millennium. One associate, Peter Zuccaro, enthralled with the Mafia since he was a teenager, declined the offer when he was told he was being made around 2000. “I didn’t need it,” he said; he began informing a few years later. In 2003, Mr. Vitale started cooperating with the government, and helped convict more than 50 Mafia figures. That was followed by a once-unthinkable betrayal. In 2005, a mob leader flipped for the first time. It was Joe Massino, Mr. Asaro’s onetime boss.
Mr. Asaro did not seem to question it when his cousin Gaspare Valenti, who had been in Las Vegas and not speaking to Mr. Asaro, returned to New York and befriended him in 2010. Mr. Valenti was secretly working with the F.B.I.
By then, Mr. Asaro was hobbling around trying to generate cash. “I don’t come out early no more,” Mr. Asaro said in 2010. “Where am I going? I got no place to go.”
Since his divorce in 2005, he had been on bad terms with his only son, Jerome, a Bonanno captain. His jewelry had been in hock for two years. He still went to Fat Andy’s, where he had celebrated the Lufthansa robbery, but “people hate me in there: I don’t pay my dues,” he told Mr. Valenti, his cousin, in a conversation Mr. Valenti recorded.
He tried to look sharp, though his idea of sharp by then was fresh sneakers and a jacket from Kohl’s. As other organized crime was getting ever more sophisticated — hacking into bank accounts, stealing identities — Mr. Asaro was still talking about small robberies and little shakedowns.
He worried he was so irrelevant he would be kicked out of the Mafia altogether. “They’re going to take my badge away. You’re going to see, it’s going to happen,” he told Mr. Valenti in 2011, according to a recording played in court. By 2012, the group’s waning membership was such that he told Mr. Valenti that he was promoted to captain again. It did not change his fortunes. “I ain’t got a penny. I swear to God. No gas. Twenty dollars can you lend me?” he told Mr. Valenti.
In 2014, the F.B.I. finally closed in, arresting Mr. Asaro at his girlfriend’s Howard Beach residence. Prosecutors charged him with racketeering conspiracy, including the Lufthansa robbery and Paul Katz’s murder, and extortion. Four other Mafia members, including his son, were arrested the same day. They all struck plea bargains. Mr. Asaro did not.
           
 During the trial, which started in October, traces of Mr. Asaro’s verve were on display. He insisted on a clear line of sight to the turncoats, mouthing obscenities as they testified. Some moments struck him as amusing — when he heard a tape of himself telling Mr. Valenti he had a “face made of [expletive] plutonium,” he put his head in his hands and chuckled.
But the trial made it clear. Omertà was no more. People above him had flouted the code, people below him had flouted the code, and the last one left was Mr. Asaro clinging to his credo. He seemed angry and betrayed.
Partway through the trial, angry that his lawyers were not cross-examining more aggressively, he asked to speak to Judge Allyne R. Ross of Federal District Court. “I just want some input in the case, your honor,” he said. “This is my life. This is my life. I’m 80 years old.”
Sarah Maslin Nir contributed reporting, and Alain Delaquérière contributed research.
A version of this article appears in print on November 10, 2015, on page A1 of the New York edition with the headline: At Trial, a Fading Mafia Ready for Its Close-Up. Order Reprints| Today's Paper|Subscri


Lawyer: Turncoats Framed Old Gangster in 'Goodfellas' Heist

$
0
0

BY TOM HAYS, ASSOCIATED PRESS

The government used opportunistic Mafia turncoats to make its case against aging mobster Vincent Asaro in a decades-old airport heist immortalized in the hit gangster movie "Goodfellas," a defense attorney said in closing arguments on Monday at Asaro's racketeering trial.
Lawyer Elizabeth Macedonio called the cooperating witnesses "despicable people" and "accomplished liars" who would say anything to save themselves. She singled out Asaro's mob associate cousin, who came forward in the late 2000s and agreed to wear a wire to record their conversations and try to implicate her client.
The cousin, Gaspare Valenti, "is a person who is able to lie to everyone around him — even his own family," she told jurors in federal court in Brooklyn.
The jury got the case late Monday and deliberated for about a half-hour before breaking for day. It was to resume on Tuesday.
The government alleges that the 80-year-old Asaro, in his heyday, helped plan the $6 million armed holdup at a Lufthansa cargo terminal at John F. Kennedy International Airport. It also has accused the Bonanno organized crime family member of continuing his life of crime into his later year before his arrest last year.
Assistant U.S. Attorney Alicyn Cooley, in her closing argument on Friday, told the jury that Asaro, whose grandfather and father were members of the secretive Bonanno family, "was born into that life and he fully embraced it."
She said Asaro rose through the ranks and developed an "unbreakable bond" with the more notorious James "Jimmy the Gent" Burke, the late Lucchese crime family associate who orchestrated the 1978 Lufthansa heist and inspired the mob character played by Robert De Niro in the film. She cited testimony by Valenti about how Asaro teamed with Burke to assemble the holdup crew and, in a separate scheme, kill a suspected informant with a dog chain.
Jurors have heard recordings made by Valenti on which Asaro complained in a profanity-laced rant, "We never got our right money, what we were supposed to get. ... Jimmy kept everything."
Asaro's attorney argued that the recordings only exposed the bluster of a broken-down old man with a gambling problem.
"Hardly the powerful organized crime figure the government alleges him to be," Macedonio said. "Rather, Mr. Asaro rode around all day with Gaspare Valenti fantasizing. Fantasizing about a way to make money."
Valenti, 68, testified he signed up to become a paid government informant because a gambling problem had left him destitute and he was fed up with the Mafia.
Asaro, if convicted of racketeering conspiracy and other charges, would face life in prison.
"Goodfellas," released in 1990, also featured Ray Liotta, Lorraine Bracco and Joe Pesci, who won an Academy Award for best supporting actor. It was directed by Martin Scorsese.


Fatal Prohibition shooting in Herald Square spurs NYPD to create Intelligence Division & Counter-Terrorism Bureau's predecessor

$
0
0



BY DAVID J. KRAJICEK

Halfway through the fool’s parade of Prohibition, New York began to stink of Cicero, Ill.
Hard liquor had been the first-line intoxicant glugged in the Big Apple’s speakeasies.
But in 1927, the boys from Chicago arrived, with their Tommy Guns and needle beer, a low-test brew spiked through barrel bunghole corks with ether or ethanol.
Beer joints suddenly thrived in New York. So did casket-makers.
At 3 o’clock on June 17, 1928, a gorgeous Sunday afternoon, an eye-catching young brunette was perched behind the wheel of a Hudson sedan that inched up Broadway, plowing a furrow through the Herald Square masses. A well-dressed man twice her age rode shotgun.
As the Hudson idled near W. 36th St., a man stepped from a trailing Nash, strode to the Hudson and fired three shots through the passenger’s window. He calmly opened the door and delivered three more redundant bullets.
The passenger, a mug from Buffalo via Chicago, was good and dead.
.
The driver, described neatly by a broadsheet as “about 23, comely and dressed in pink,” stepped from the car and scooted into a nearby restaurant. She dabbed blood from her face, then walked out into the Herald Square human stream and disappeared.
A beat cop commandeered a taxi and raced after the Nash, pinging wild shots as the getaway car hurtled away, last seen heading up Park Ave.
The next day, the murder was on the front pages of the newspapers, on the lips of gabby New Yorkers, and on the agenda of Mayor Jimmy Walker.
New York has always shrugged at the occasional bump-off in certain neighborhoods — but not others.
Herald Square was one of the others.
This was a crossroads of commerce that attracted New York’s beau monde, and all that bang-bang in broad daylight can ruin a shopping trip.
After police sorted through his half-dozen aliases, the victim of the rubout was pegged as Edwin Jerge, who hadn’t lived many honest days in his 45 years. He’d been a pickpocket in Buffalo, a bank robber in Chicago, a forger in Newark, a truck hijacker in Cleveland and a dope peddler in New York.
Jerge’s murder was a mere splatter in the river of bloodshed in this city over the decades, and his bullet-shortened life is long forgotten today. But the shooting spurred an NYPD innovation when it exposed the department’s lack of gangland intelligence.
Police believed Jerge was a fatality of the beer racket, compliments of Al Capone & Co. of Illinois. But lacking a suspect, Inspector John Coughlin and his minions cast about for motives. They linked the murder to a missing-person case, a steamer ship heist and several variations on the old double-cross.
Briefly, the murder drew attention to a New York hoodlum with a nonpareil nickname. Jerge was said to have robbed a Lower East Side drug dealer, Samuel Weissman, who was known in his circle as Kitty the Horse, apparently a mash-up of his equine face and a tendency to emit a quavering meow when he got animated.
Kitty the Horse was corralled by police but released without charge.
Meanwhile, city morgues began filling up with more bodies — Capone frenemy Francesco (Frankie Yale) Ioele, murdered in Brooklyn; beer baron Tony Marlow, taken out in front of the Harding Hotel near Columbus Circle; a Brooklyn mug named Jimmy Abbatamarco, a beer runner named Hickey Senter, and a handful of others.

Police tallied seven murders they believed to be somehow related to Jerge. But how?
The press belittled the cops’ incompetence, tagging detectives as “bewildered” and “floundering.”
“The police are just scratching their heads, looking very wise and very mysterious,” Wilbur Rogers grumbled in the Brooklyn Eagle.
Mayor Walker put the spurs to Inspector Coughlin, who then lashed his men.
“I want this Jerge murder broken,” Coughlin bellowed at 100 detectives, “or some of you fellows are going back to patrol duty in uniform!”
But six months after the Herald Square spectacle, Mayor Walker fired his police brain trust, including Coughlin, Chief Inspector William Lahey and Commissioner Joseph Warren.

Walker replaced Warren with his friend Grover Whalen, a businessman with no police experience. Whalen said the NYPD was being outflanked by “the secret rackets.”
“All these mysteries might not have been mysteries at all if we had known what was going on in the underworld,” Whalen said.
In July 1929, he sought to fix the information deficit by creating the agency’s first spy unit, borrowing an idea from Scotland Yard.
Fifty fresh graduates of the Police Academy were assigned to go undercover as “criminals with their fingers crossed.” They carried no shields, owned no uniforms and were persona non grata at stationhouses.
Their task was to scrape the inside skinny from bad guys, then unload the lowdown in secret sit-downs with bosses.
The fledgling spies functioned as forerunners of today’s vast NYPD Intelligence Division & Counter-Terrorism Bureau.
They helped develop a few more theories on why the beer racket would want to ventilate Jerge. But the Herald Square hit men went unpunished.
And as the memory of the bloody Sunday faded, some reconsidered.

As Alva Johnston put it in The New Yorker, “Why should the city turn ungrateful and resent its good luck? Any community ought to be glad to have its population diminished by a Jerge.”
Viewing all 718 articles
Browse latest View live