Joseph Bruno's Blog, page 63

Joe Bruno on the Mob – The Boston Battle For the Bulger Movie

This is turning out to be a better fight than Ali-Frazier: a fight to see who will produce the better flick about Boston mob boss Whitey Bulger, who was arrested early last year after 16 years on the lam.

 

In one corner you have the not-so-dynamic duo of Ben Affleck and Matt Damon, who won an Academy Award for their movie "Good Will Hunting," in what seems like a few generations ago. Both men are from the Boston area, but both were not exactly what you would call "street kids."

 

"We've heard about Whitey Bulger since we were kids," Affleck said recently.

 

No kidding. I've heard about Bulger too, for about the last 35 years, but I'm not looking to make a movie about the man.

 

In the other corner you have Mark Wahlberg, who did some time in the can himself as a youth, but then straightened out his life out, first as a rap star, then as a movie star. Wahlberg, according to reports, knows people similar to the type of people he would have to portray in a Bulger movie.

 

Wahlberg said about making the Bulger movie, "I can do it better than anybody else."

 

There is even a possibility Wahlberg will visit Bulger in prison to get his "blessing."

 

I'm going with Wahlberg on this one. Damon and Afleck have become Hollywood pseudo-intelligencia brats. They champion one liberal cause after another, and they have lost whatever "street sense" they may have had, if they ever had any "street sense" to in the first place.

 

Wahlberg is the real McCoy, a street kid who rose above his petty crime childhood, and made it big on "street sense" and hard work. His obvious acting talents, much greater that Damon and Afleck's combined, doesn't hurt him much either.

 

 

 

You can see the article below at:

 http://www.nypost.com/p/news/national...

 

H'wood war over Whitey

 

By LEONARD GREENE

 

Last Updated: 7:15 AM, January 16, 2012

 

Posted: 2:58 AM, January 16, 2012

More Print

 

As long as Boston's most notorious gangster remained on the lam, the Hollywood heavyweights who told his story didn't mind working together.

 

But now that James "Whitey" Bulger is behind bars, the stars trying to bring his life to the big screen are in a fight as bitter as any mob war.

 

On one side are Academy Award winners Ben Affleck and Matt Damon, who are already in the process of developing a Bulger movie with Warner Bros.

 

On the other side is Mark Wahlberg, who said he might visit the subject himself in prison to get his personal blessing.

 

Both sides are counting on their Boston roots to tell the most authentic tale.

 

 

"We've heard about Whitey Bulger since we were kids," Affleck said in a statement.

 

Wahlberg says he can "do it better than anybody else."

 

Bulger was arrested in August after 16 years on the run. He was charged with 19 murders.

 

 

 

Joe Bruno on the Mob – Carmine "Lilo" Galante — The Cigar

He was as vicious as Mafia boss Vito Genovese, as ambitious as Vito Genovese, and he was deeply involved in the heroin business as was Vito Genovese. However, Carmine "The Cigar" Galante, would not die of natural causes as did Vito Genovese (albeit in prison). Instead, Galante was murdered in one of the most memorable mob hits of all time. After his body was filled with lead, he lay sprawled on his back in the tiny backyard patio of a Queens restaurant, his trademark cigar clenched tightly between his teeth.

Camillo Galante was born on February 21st, 1910, at 27 Stanton Street on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Because both his parents, Vincenzo, a fisherman, and his wife (maiden name Vingenza Russo) had been born in the seaside village of Castellammarese del Golfo in Sicily, Galante was a pure first generation Sicilian/America. Galante had two brothers and two sisters, and when he was in grade school, Galante ditched his given name Camillo, and insisted he be called Carmine instead. Over the years it was shortened to "Lilo," which was the name most of his associates called Galante.

Galante first got into trouble for petty theft from a store counter when he was fourteen years old. But since he was a juvenile at the time, an account of this arrest is not in his official police record.

At various times, Galante attended Public High Schools 79 and 120, but he dropped out of school for good at the age of fifteen. Galante was in and out of reform school several times, and was considered an "incorrigible delinquent."

From 1923 to 1926, Galante was ostensibly employed at the Lubin Artificial Flower Company at 270 West Broadway. However, this was a ruse to satisfy the law that Galante was gainfully employed, when, in fact, he was engaged in a very lucrative criminal career.

In December 1925, Galante was arrested for assault. However, money changed hands between Galante's people and crooked policemen, and as a result, Galante was released without serving any prison time. In December 1926, Galante was arrested again, but this time he was found guilty of second degree assault and robbery, and sentenced to two-to-five years in prison. Galante was released from prison in 1930, and in order to satisfy his parole officer, he got another sham "job" at the O'Brien Fish Company at 105 South Street, near the Fulton Fish Market.

However, it was not Galante's nature to stay on the right side of the law. On March 15th, 1930, five men entered the Martin Weinstein's shoe factory on the corner of York and Washington Streets in Brooklyn Heights. On the 6th floor of the building, Mr. Weinstein was in the process of getting his weekly payroll together, under the protection of police officer Walter De Castillia of the 84th Precinct. The five men took the elevator to the 6th floor. While one man stood guard at the elevator, the other four men burst into Mr. Weinstein's office. They ignored the $7,500 sitting on the table, and opened fire on Officer De Castillia, a married father of a young girl, with nine years on the force. Officer De Castillia was hit six times in the chest and he died instantly.

The four men walked calmly back to the elevator and joined their cohort, who was guarding the elevator operator Louis Sella. Stella took the five men down to the ground floor. He later told the police that the men had exited the building, calmly walked to a parked car, got into the car, and fled the scene. When the police arrived minutes later from the station house just 2 blocks away, the killers were nowhere to be seen. Sella described the five men as "early to mid-twenties, with dark skin and dark hair." Sella said the men were all "very well-dressed."

The police theory was, that since no money had been taken, that this was a planned hit on Officer De Castillia. On August 30, 1930, Galante, along with Michael Consolo and Angelo Presinzano, were arrested and indicted for the murder of Officer De Castillia. However, all four men were soon released due to lack of evidence.

On December 25th, 1930, four suspicious men were sitting in a green sedan on Briggs Avenue in Brooklyn. Police detective Joseph Meenahan just happened to be in the area. He spotted the men in the sedan, drew his gun, and approached the sedan cautiously. One of the men shouted at Meenahan, "Stop right there copper, or we'll burn you."

Before Meenahan could react, the firing commenced from the green sedan. Meenahan was shot in the leg, and a six-year-old girl walking nearby with her mother was seriously wounded. The driver of the sedan had trouble starting the car, so the four men leaped from the sedan and tried to escape on foot. Three of the men manged to flee the area by jumping on a passing truck, but the fourth man slipped as he tried to get onto the truck and was apprehended by the wounded Meenahan. That man was Carmine Galante.

When Meenahan brought Galante to the station house, a group of detectives, angry that one of their own had been wounded, started to give Galante the "police station tuneup." Despite getting his lumps, Galante refused to give up the identities of the men who had escaped. He was subsequently tried and convicted as one of the four men who had robbed the Lieberman Brewery in Brooklyn. On January 8th, 1931, Galante was remanded to Sing Sing Prison in Ossining, New York. He was later transferred to the Clinton Correctional Facility in Dannemora, New York, where he remained until his release on May 1st, 1939.

While Galante was in prison he was given an IQ test that revealed he had a lame IQ of only 90, which, even though Galante was well into his twenties, equated to a mental age of 14-years-old. It was also noted that Galante was diagnosed as having a "neuropathic psychopathic personality." A physical evaluation showed that he had a head injury incurred in a car accident when Galante was 10-years-old, a fractured ankle when he was eleven, and that Galante was showing the early signs of gonorrhea, probably incurred at one of the many brothels controlled by the mob.

In 1939, after he was released from prison, Galante was again given sham employment at his old job at the Lubin Artificial Flower Company. In February of 1941, Galante obtained membership in Local 856 of the Longshoreman's Union, where he ostensibly worked as a " stevedore." However, it is likely Galante very rarely showed up for work; one of the perks of being a member of the Mafia.

There is no record of the exact date, but Galante was induced as a made member of the Bonanno Crime Family in the early 1940′s. Despite the fact his boss was Joe Bonanno, at the time the youngest Mafia boss in America, Galante performed many hits for Vito Genovese, all throughout the 1930′s and 1940′s.

While Genovese was in self-imposed exile in Italy (he was wanted on a murder charge and flew the coop before he could be arrested), Genovese became fast pals with Italian fascist dictator Benito Mussolini. Mussolini had a stone in his shoe in America called Carlo Tresa. Tresa was causing Mussolini much agita by incessantly writing anti-fascist sentiments in his radical Italian-language newspaper, Il Martello, which was sold in Italian communities in America.

Genovese sent word back to America to Frank Garofalo, underboss to Joseph Bonanno, that Tresa had to go. Garofalo gave Tresa contract to Galante, who shadowed Tresa for a few days to determine the best time and place to whack him.

On January 11th, 1943, Tresa was walking along Fifth Avenue near 13th Street, when a black Ford sedan pulled up along side him. The Ford stopped and Galante jumped out, hot gun in hand. Galante blasted Tresa several times in the back and in the head, killing the newspaper editor instantly. Amazingly, Galante was seen by his parole officer fleeing the scene, but due to the wartime rationing of gasoline, the parole officer was unable to follow the black Ford containing Galante and the smoking gun. No arrest were ever made for the Tresa slaying.

In 1953, Bonanno sent Galante to Montreal, Canada to take control of the Bonanno Family interests north of the boarder. Besides the very lucrative Canadian gambling rackets, the Bonannos were heavy into the importation of heroin, from France into Canada, and then into America – the infamous French Connection. Galante supervised the Canadian drug operation for three years. But in 1956, the Canadian police caught wind of Galante's involvement. Not having enough evidence to arrest Galante, they instead deported Galante back to America, classifying Galante as "an undesirable alien."

In 1957, Genovese called for a big summit of all the top Mafioso in America, to take place at the upstate New York Apalachin residence of Joseph Barbara, a captain in the Buffalo crime family of Stefano Magaddino. In preparation for this meeting, on October 19th, 1956, several New York crime bigwigs were summoned to Barbara's home to go over the guidelines of the proposed meeting; the prime purpose of which was to anoint Genovese as the Capo di Tutti Capi," or "Boss of all Bosses."

After the meeting ended, driving on his way back to New York City, Galante was nabbed for speeding near Birmingham, New York. Because his driver's license had been suspended, Galante gave the police a phone one. He was immediately arrested and sentenced to 30 days in prison. However, the tentacles of the Mafia also reached right into the police department in upstate New York. After a few mobbed-up New York lawyers made the right phone calls to upstate New York, Galante was released within 48 hours. Yet, a state policeman named Sergeant Edgar Roswell took note of the fact that Galante had admitted to the police he had stayed the night before at the Arlington Hotel, as host of a local businessman named Joseph Barbara. This prompted Roswell to pay especial attention to the Barbara residence in Apalachin, New York.

Less than a month later, on November 17th, 1957, at the insistence of Don Vito Genovese, Mafia members from all over America made their way to the Barbara residence. These men included Sam Giancana from Chicago, Santo Trafficante from Florida, John Scalish from Cleveland, and Joe Profaci and Tommy Lucchese from New York City. Galante's boss Joe Bonanno decided not to attend, and he sent Galante instead.

Sergeant Roswell took note of the fact that on the day before the nearby Arlington Hotel had been booked to the rafters with suspicious-looking out-of-towners. Roswell asked the right questions, and he was able to confirm that the man who made the reservations for these men was Joseph Barbara himself. Roswell drove to the Barbara resident and he spotted dozens of luxury cars parked outside, some with out-of-town plates.

Roswell called for back-up, and in minutes, dozens of state troupers arrived with guns drawn. The troupers raided the Barbara residence and chaos ensued. Men wearing expensive suits, hats, and shoes bolted from the house. Some were immediately arrested; some made it to their cars and drove off the property before roadblocks could be put in place by the police. Others jumped out of the windows and hightailed in through the thorny woods. One of these men was Carmine Galante, who hid in a cornfield until the police had left the Barbara residence. Then made his way back to Barbara's home, and made arrangements for his safe passage back to New York City.

The next day, when the news of the raid on Barbara's house hit American newspapers, blowing the lid off the misguided idea that the Mafia was a myth, Galante went into the wind, or in mob terms, he "pulled a lamski." On January 8th, 1958, the New York Herald Tribune wrote that Galante had run to Italy to hook up with old pal Salvatore "Lucky" Luciano, who was in exile in Italy, after serving nine years in American prison on a trumped-up prostitution charge. Another report said that it was not Luciano Galante was with, but rather Joe "Adonis" Doto, another mob boss in exile in Italy. On January 9th, the New York Journal American said Galante was not in Italy at all, but in Havana, Cuba, with Meyer Lansky, a longtime member of the National Crime Commission, who had numerous casino interests in Cuba.

In April 1958, it was somehow leaked that Galante was now back in the United States and living somewhere in the New York area. The local law went to work, and in July, Galante was arrested by the Federal Bureau of Narcotics while he was driving near near Holmdale, New Jersey. He was charged with taking part in a major heroin deal, one of many Galante had been involved with. Also arrested in the same case were Vito Genovese, John Ormento, Joe Di Palermo, and Vincent Gigante. Galante, again making use of his cadre of New York attorneys, was released on $100,000 bail. Galante's lawyers were able to delay any further legal proceedings for almost two years. It wasn't until May 17th, 1960, that Galante was formally indicted, and again released on bail.

On January 20th, 1961, Galante's trial finally began, and the judge, Thomas F. Murphy, revoked Galante's bail, ordering Galante to be put right into the slammer. However, Galante's luck held up when, on May 15th, a mistrial was declared. It seemed the foreman of the jury, a poor chap named Harry Appel, a 68-year-old dress manufacturer, had the misfortune of falling down a flight of stairs in a building on 15th Street in Manhattan. After the medics arrived and Appel was taken to a nearby hospital, it was determined that Appel had suffered a broken back. No one had seen Appel fall, nor did the hurt and frightened Appel say that anyone had pushed him. However, although they had no definite proof, law enforcement believed that Appel had been pushed by a cohort of Galante's, with a warning not to say anything to anybody, and they would allow Appel and members of his family to live.

Galante, now feeling alive and chipper, was released from prison, secured by a bond of $135,000.

Alas, but all good things must come to an end.

In April 1962, Galante's second trial commenced.

At the trial, there was a bit of mayhem in the courtroom, when one of Galante's co-defendants, a nasty creature named Tony Mirra (who was said to have killed 30-40 people) became so unhinged, that he picked up a chair and flung it at the prosecutor. Luckily for the prosecutor, the chair missed him and landed in the jury box, forcing the frightened jurors to scatter in all directions. Order was restored to the court, and the trial proceeded, which was bad news for both Galante, and for Mirra. Both men were found guilty, and on July 10th, 1962, Galante was sentenced to thirty years in prison. Mirra also was sent to prison for a very long time. It is not clear if any additional time was tacked onto Mirra's sentence for the chair-throwing incident.

Galante first was sent to Alcatraz Prison, which was located on an island fortress in San Francisco Bay. He was then moved to the Lewisburg Penitentiary, in Leavenworth, Kansas, before serving the final years of his prison term in the United States Penitentiary in Atlanta, Georgia. Galante was finally released from prison on January 24th, 1974, all full of fire and brimstone, and ready to get back into business. However, Galante was to be on parole until 1981, so he had to be careful not to keep a high profile. Unfortunately, being in the background was not in Galante's makeup.

While he was in prison, Galante made it known that when he got out of prison he was going to take control of the New York Mafia by the throat. The accepted head of the five New York City Mafia families at the time was Carlo Gambino, the head of the Gambino crime family. Gambino was shrewd, and generally quiet and reserved; well-respected for his business acumen, and his ability to keep peace amongst his own family, as well as the other Mafia families. However, Galante had to use for Gambino, or his method of doing business. Galante told a cohort in jail, that when he hit the streets again, he would "make Carlo Gambino shit in the middle of Times Square."

By the time of Galante's release, his boss Joe Bonnano had been forced to "retire," and was living in Tuscon, Arizona. The new Bonanno boss was Rusty Rastelli. But since Rastelli was in the slammer at the time, Galante took over as the "street boss" of the Bonannos. Still, Rastelli was considered the boss of the Bonannos, and was none too happy about how Galante was strutting his stuff on the streets of New York City.

Galante took the unusual step, and not appreciate by other Bonanno crime family members, of surrounding himself with Sicilian born Mafioso like Caesar Bonventre, Salvatore Catalano, and Baldo Amato. Theses men were derisively called "zips" by the American Mafia, due to the quick way they zipped through the Italian language. These zips were heavily involved in the drug trade, and in direct opposition to those in the Genovese Crime Family, which was run by Funzi Tieri, every bit as cunning and vicious as Galante.

Galante had a minor setback, when in 1978, he was arrested by the Feds for "associating with known criminals," which was a violation of his parole. While Galante stewed in prison, he began ordering his men to kill mobsters in the Genovese and Gambino crime families, who were cutting in on Galante's worldwide drug operation. With Carlo Gambino now dead (from natural causes), Galante figured he had the muscle to push the other crime family bosses into the background. From prison he sent out the message to the other bosses, "Who among you is going to stand up against me?"

On March 1st, 1979, Galante's was released from prison and walking on air because he truly believed the other crime bosses were afraid of him. Like Vito Genovese before him, Galante envisioned himself as "Boss of All Bosses," and it was only a matter of time before the other bosses cowered before Galante and handed him the title.

However, Galante underestimated the might and will of the other Mafioso bosses in New York City. While Galante swaggered around the streets of New York City, the other bosses held a meeting in Boca Raton, Florida, deciding Galante's fate. At this meeting were Funzi Tieri, Jerry Catena, Paul Castellano, and Florida boss Santo Trafficante. These powerful men voted unanimously, if mob peace was to exist in the streets of New York City, Galante had to go. Rastelli, who was still in jail, was consulted, and even the aged Joe Bonanno, living in Arizona, was asked if he had any reservations at his former close associate being hit. Both Rastelli and Bonanno signed off on Galante's murder contract, and Galante's days were numbered.

On July 12th, 1979, it was a hot and sticky summer day, as the 69-year-old Carmine Galante's Lincoln pulled up at 205 Knickerbocker Avenue, in the Bushwick section of Brooklyn. For more than 50 years, Knickerbocker Avenue had been the turf of the Bonnano crime family, and over the years numerous mob sit-downs had taken place in one of several storefronts on the block.

Carmine Galante stepped out of the Lincoln, then he waved goodbye to the driver: his nephew James Galante. Carmine Galante was wearing a white short-sleeved knit shirt, and, as was his custom, he was sucking on a huge Churchill cigar. Galante strutted inside the tiny restaurant, and was greet by Joe Turano, the owner of Joe and Mary's Restaurant. Galante had made this visit to meet with Turano, and with Leonard "Nardo" Coppola, a close associate of Galante's, over some undetermined mob business.

At approximately 1:30 p.m., Cappola strolled into the restaurant, accompanied by zips Baldo Amato and Cesare Bonventre, who were cousins, and from the same village as Galante's parents: Castellammarese del Golfo. By this time Galante and Turano had already finished their meal, so while the three newcomers sat inside and had their lunch, Galante and Turano slipped outside into the backyard patio, and sat under a yellow-and-turquoise checked umbrella. After Cappola, Bonventre, and Amato finished dining, they joined the other two men outside. Galante and Turano were smoking cigars and drinking espresso coffee laced with Anisette (only tourists and non-Italians drink Sambuca).

Galante was sitting with his back to a small garden, while Amato sat to his left and Bonventre to his right. Turano and Cappola sat on the opposite side of the table, their backs to the door leading to the restaurant.

At approximately 2:40 p.m., a four-door, blue Mercury Montego double parked in front of Joe and Mary's Restaurant. The car had been stolen about a month before. The driver, wearing a red-striped ski mask that covered his face, stepped out of the car and stood guard, holding a .3030 M1 carbine rifle menacingly in his hands. Three other men, also wearing ski masks, jumped out of the car and jogged into the restaurant. They sped past the few startled diners who were still eating lunch, and rushed into the patio area.

As they entered the patio, one masked man said to the other, "Get him, Sal!'

The gunman called "Sal" began firing a double-barrel shotgun several times at Galante, propelling Galante, as he was rising from his chair, onto his back. Galante was hit with 30 pellets, one knocking out his left eye. Galante was probably dead before he hit the ground, his cigar still stuck tightly between his teeth.

As Galante was shot, Joe Turano yelled,"What are you doing?"

The same gunman turned to Turano, and with the shotgun pressed against Turano's chest, he blasted Turano into eternity.

Cappola jumped up from the table, and either Amato, or Bonventre (it's not clear which one did the shooting) shot Cappola in the face, then five times in the chest. Cappola landed face down, and the killer with the shotgun, blasted off the back of Coppola's head.

The three masked men then hurried from the restaurant, and into the waiting getaway car. According to witnesses outside the restaurant, the car sped up Knickerbocker Avenue to Flushing Avenue, then disappeared around the corner. Bonventre and Amato, who were both wearing leather jackets despite the stifling heat, soon followed the three gunman out of the restaurant. They calmly walked down the block, got into a blue Lincoln, and drove away, like they had nary a care in the world.

Galante's body was laid out in the Provenzano-Lanza Funeral Home at 43 Second Avenue on the Lower East Side. The crowds that usual accompany a Mafia wake of this kind were notably absent. Galante was buried on July 17th at Saint John's Cemetery in Queens. With the Feds doing the counting, only 59 people attended Galante's funeral mass and burial. The Feds also reported that not one Mafia made man was captured on surveillance cameras, either at the wake, or at the funeral.

One Fed, commenting at the sparse turnout, said, "Galante was so bad, people didn't want to see him, even when he was dead."

Even though the newspapers played up the killing with gruesome front page photos, the general public seemed imperious to the magnitude of the event. A young boy strolled up to a police officer standing guard the the wake.

"Was he an actor?" the kid said to the cop.

The cop replied, "No, he was a gangster."

Joe Bruno on the Mob – Alleged Colombo Bigwig Thomas Farese Arrested

Even though the FBI has reportedly significantly lowered the number of agents assigned to Organized Crime, especially the Mafia, the Feds are still making a good number of arrests.

The latest alleged Colombo crime family member to bite the bullet is reputed Colombo consigliere Thomas Farese. Farese was recently arrested in the sunny state of Florida and charged with money laundering tied to his alleged loansharking business. Also arrested by the Feds, on the same charges, was alleged mob associate Pat Truglia. The Feds allege that Farese was bumped up to Colombo consigliere by alleged (there's that word again) street boss Andrew (Mush) Russo, after Russo was arrested last year.

As usual in these cases, there was a rat informant involved. Both Farese and Truglia were secretly taped while in Florida by former Colombo captain Reynold Maragni. Maragni was able to travel to Florida to perform this dirty deed, even though he was under federal indictment in New York, because he had permission from the government to visit his "doctors." Maragni was in the soup himself because he had recently been arrested for engaging in a little extortion racket.

Not only was Maragni active with his secret recordings in Florida, but also in New York City, where he was helping the Feds gather evidence in the 1999 killing of Colombo bigwig William "Wild Bill" Cutolo. While wearing a wire outside Macy's midtown department store, Maragni asked reputed Colombo soldier Vincent Manzo, "Was Tommy there or not there?" (Marangni was referring to alleged former acting boss Thomas (Tommy Shots) Gioeli.)

Manzo answered, "Tommy was there."

With all the organized crime figures turning canary, it's a wonder any wiseguy with a wise brain would say anything incriminating to his best friend, his brother, or even to his wife.

Yet they continue to talk and the Feds continue to arrest.

To be continued.

 

 The article below can be seen at:

 

http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/t...

 

Thomas Farese is latest alleged Colombo mobster to be busted

Feds charge him with money laundering

By John Marzulli / NEW YORK DAILY NEWS

 

 

The Colombo crime family keeps promoting gangsters and the FBI keeps knocking them down.

 

Reputed consigliere Thomas Farese is the latest casualty in the feds' war on the Colombos, arrested Thursday in Florida on money laundering charges.

 

Farese, 69, was elevated to the high-ranking crime post last year by jailed street boss Andrew (Mush) Russo, according to a complaint filed in Brooklyn Federal Court.

 

Farese and mob associate Pat Truglia were hit with charges of laundering money tied to loansharking rackets.

 

They were secretly taped in November by former capo Reynold Maragni who had permission from the government to travel to Florida to visit his doctors while under federal indictment in New York.

 

Farese and Truglia were ordered held without bail pending their extradition to Brooklyn.

 

 

Joe Bruno on the Mob – Frank DiMattina Found Guilty of Extortion.

I must admit, I was a little surprised at the guilty verdict. But whenever anyone's name is associated with the Mafia, however superficially, they have the cards stacked against them in court.

I'm not saying Frank DiMattina is innocent of the charges he threatened Walter Bowers, that if Bowers didn't withdraw his catering bid for lunches for the St. Joseph By The Sea School in Staten Island, bad things would happen to Bowers. What I am saying, that from all I could read about the case, the only evidence they had against DiMattina was Bowers' word himself, and the testimony of a priest, Rev. Michael Reilly, who was handling the school lunch bid.

Father Reilly said on the stand concerning Bowers, "When he withdrew his bid, he was fearful, very fearful. He said, 'I got a visit.'"

Did Father Reilly personally witness the extortion? No. So Father Reilly's testimony was 100% hearsay evidence. Bowers told him, "I got a visit." So how was that enough evidence to convict DiMattina?

The most damning testimony in court against DiMattina was the statement from the prosecution which said, "A confidential source told the Federal Bureau of Investigation that Mr. DiMattina is an associate of the Genovese crime family."

That's all I needed to know to understand why DiMattina was convicted with such flimsy evidence. "A confidential source said……" In other words, a rat informer who might be edging for a way to get a reduced sentence told Team America something they love to hear: that someone is connected to the Mafia.

I don't know if DiMattina was guilty of extortion or not. I don't know if DiMattina is an associate of the Colombo crime family or not. I do know that in America everyone, even an alleged Mafia associate, deserves the benefit of a doubt in court. There must be proof "beyond a reasonable doubt" to convict someone. Hard evidence always trumps hearsay.

I guess the rules change dramatically when the word "Mafia" is injected into the situation.

You can view the article below at:

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/07/nyr...

Caterer Tied to the Mob Is Convicted

By MOSI SECRET

Published: January 6, 2012

Frank DiMattina, a suspected Genovese family associate who had dreams of reality television stardom, was convicted Friday of extortion and a related firearms charge.

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Mr. DiMattina, 44, who formerly owned one of Staten Island's most popular catering halls and wanted to make a show about his life there, was found guilty of forcing a rival caterer to withdraw his bid on a lucrative contract for a school lunch program, for which Mr. DiMattina had also bid.

The jury deliberated for a day after a three-day trial in Federal District Court in Brooklyn.

The rival caterer, Walter Bowers, a Staten Island man who bought Ariana's Catering Hall from Mr. DiMattina in March 2010, testified that Mr. DiMattina displayed a gun to him and threatened to have another man beat him if Mr. Bowers did not withdraw the bid.

Jack Dennehy, the prosecutor, also presented testimony from a priest, the Rev. Michael Reilly, who was overseeing the bid process for the school, St. Joseph by-the-Sea High School on Staten Island.

"When he withdrew his bid, he was fearful, very fearful," Father Reilly said of Mr. Bowers. "He said, 'I got a visit.' "

According to court papers, a confidential source told the Federal Bureau of Investigation that Mr. DiMattina is an associate of the Genovese crime family.

Mr. DiMattina, who still cooks and caters, had hoped to star in a show about his life, which he called "Banquet Boyz." He produced slick promotional videos for the show and posted them on YouTube. A promo for his "hip new reality show" still is online at banquetboyz.com.

Mr. DiMattina faces a mandatory minimum sentence of five years in prison. But for now he is free to cook another day. In an unusual move in a case involving a violent offense, the presiding judge in the trial, Jack B. Weinstein, granted Mr. DiMattina bail before his sentencing.

"You better use this time to transfer the business, because I am not going to postpone sentencing," Judge Weinstein said.

oe Bruno on the Mob – Frank DiMattina Found Guilty of Extortion.

 

I must admit, I was a little surprised at the guilty verdict. But whenever anyone's name is associated with the Mafia, however superficially, they have the cards stacked against them in court.

 

I'm not saying Frank DiMattina is innocent of the charges he threatened Walter Bowers, that if Bowers didn't withdraw his catering bid for lunches for the St. Joseph By The Sea School in Staten Island, bad things would happen to Bowers. What I am saying, that from all I could read about the case, the only evidence they had against DiMattina was Bowers' word himself, and the testimony of a priest, Rev. Michael Reilly, who was handling the school lunch bid.

 

Father Reilly said on the stand concerning Bowers, "When he withdrew his bid, he was fearful, very fearful. He said, 'I got a visit.'"

 

Did Father Reilly personally witness the extortion? No. So Father Reilly's testimony was 100% hearsay evidence. Bowers told him, "I got a visit." So how was that enough evidence to convict DiMattina?

 

The most damning testimony in court against DiMattina was the statement from the prosecution which said, "A confidential source told the Federal Bureau of Investigation that Mr. DiMattina is an associate of the Genovese crime family."

 

That's all I needed to know to understand why DiMattina was convicted with such flimsy evidence. "A confidential source said……" In other words, a rat informer who might be edging for a way to get a reduced sentence told Team America something they love to hear: that someone is connected to the Mafia.

 

I don't know if DiMattina was guilty of extortion or not. I don't know if DiMattina is an associate of the Colombo crime family or not. I do know that in America everyone, even an alleged Mafia associate, deserves the benefit of a doubt in court. There must be proof "beyond a reasonable doubt" to convict someone. Hard evidence always trumps hearsay.

 

I guess the rules change dramatically when the word "Mafia" is injected into the situation.

 

 

 

You can view the article below at:

 

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/07/nyr...

 

Caterer Tied to the Mob Is Convicted

By MOSI SECRET

Published: January 6, 2012

 

 

 

Frank DiMattina, a suspected Genovese family associate who had dreams of reality television stardom, was convicted Friday of extortion and a related firearms charge.

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Mr. DiMattina, 44, who formerly owned one of Staten Island's most popular catering halls and wanted to make a show about his life there, was found guilty of forcing a rival caterer to withdraw his bid on a lucrative contract for a school lunch program, for which Mr. DiMattina had also bid.

 

The jury deliberated for a day after a three-day trial in Federal District Court in Brooklyn.

 

The rival caterer, Walter Bowers, a Staten Island man who bought Ariana's Catering Hall from Mr. DiMattina in March 2010, testified that Mr. DiMattina displayed a gun to him and threatened to have another man beat him if Mr. Bowers did not withdraw the bid.

 

Jack Dennehy, the prosecutor, also presented testimony from a priest, the Rev. Michael Reilly, who was overseeing the bid process for the school, St. Joseph by-the-Sea High School on Staten Island.

 

"When he withdrew his bid, he was fearful, very fearful," Father Reilly said of Mr. Bowers. "He said, 'I got a visit.' "

 

According to court papers, a confidential source told the Federal Bureau of Investigation that Mr. DiMattina is an associate of the Genovese crime family.

 

Mr. DiMattina, who still cooks and caters, had hoped to star in a show about his life, which he called "Banquet Boyz." He produced slick promotional videos for the show and posted them on YouTube. A promo for his "hip new reality show" still is online at banquetboyz.com.

 

Mr. DiMattina faces a mandatory minimum sentence of five years in prison. But for now he is free to cook another day. In an unusual move in a case involving a violent offense, the presiding judge in the trial, Jack B. Weinstein, granted Mr. DiMattina bail before his sentencing.

 

"You better use this time to transfer the business, because I am not going to postpone sentencing," Judge Weinstein said.

 

 

Joe Bruno on the Mob – Unione Siciliana (Italo-American National Union)

 

 

For many years, people have assumed that the Sicilian crime faction called the Mafia and the Unione Siciliana were one and the same. However, this assumption is not entirely true. At least, not at the beginning.

The Unione Siciliana, a fraternal organization of Sicilian Americans, was first created in 1893 in New York City, and almost simultaneously in Chicago, by legitimate Sicilian businessmen. The original concept of the Unione Siciliana was to provide life and health insurance to Sicilians, who had recently emigrated from Sicily. This insurance was needed because the working conditions at that time were abominable for all workers, but especially for the alien newcomers, who were desperate for work of any kind, no matter how dangerous.

For a small dues, members were able to receive this insurance, as well as other social benefits desired by strangers in a foreign land, who were, by nature, extremely clannish. These social benefits included dances, friendly card games, and a social network where Sicilian men could meet Sicilian women, with the intention of eventually getting married. Soon branches (lodges) of the Unione Siciliana sprung up all over America, in any place that had a sizable Sicilian community. By the 1920, Chicago alone had 38 lodges, and over 40,000 members.

The Unione Siciliana also had a very sizable voting block, which made it attractive to politicians, especially the corrupt political machines in Chicago, and the notoriously crooked Tammany Hall hacks in New York City. The Unione Siciliana threw frequent fund-raising activities for politicians in both cities, making these politicians, when elected, deeply indebted to the leaders of the Unione Siciliana, who were increasing morphing from honest businessmen into criminals of the highest order.

If there was a buck to be made, or a politician to be bought, the Mafia, which also originated in Sicily, knew how to take advantage of the opportunity. At the turn of the 20th Century, the Mafia moved in, both in Chicago and in New York City, to take control of the Unione Siciliana.

In the early 1900′s in New York City, the elected President of the Unione Siciliana was a beast-of-a-Mafioso named Ignazio Saietta, also known as "Lupo the Wolf." How a man like Saietta could be elected by honest businessmen to a position of such great influence can only be attributed to Saietta and his followers exerting tremendous pressure on the voters to elect Saietta, or suffer grave consequences.

Saietta, originally from Corleone, Sicily, was also one of the leaders of a Sicilian extortion group known as the Black Hand, which operated exclusively in New York City. Saietta was so feared in the Sicilian communities, Sicilian immigrants were known to make the sign of the cross at the mere mention of his name. The leadership of the Black Hand consisted of the Morello Brothers, Joe and Nick, and Ciro Terranova, who was known as the "Artichoke King." So at the time Saietta became the president of the Unione Siciliana, the Black Hand and the Unione Siciliana became basically one and the same.

Through the membership rolls of the Unione Siciliana, the Black Hand gang members were able to ascertain which Sicilian immigrants were generating income, thereby making these members ripe for a shakedown. Before any violence was perpetrated, the Black Hand sent threatening notes to Sicilian businessmen. On the bottom of the extortion notes, was the imprint of a "Black Hand," which was made by a hand dipped in black ink. However, due to the inroads law enforcement was making with fingerprinting at the time, the "Black Hand" was later drawn instead. If the person who was being extorted did not pay the Black Hand's demands, they were brutally tortured, and sometimes even murdered. If they were lucky, only their places of business was destroyed by explosives.

In 1905, a butcher named Gaetano Costa, got a Black Hand extortion letter, demanding $1,000. Costa was instructed to put the $1,000 into a loaf of bread, and to give it to a man who came into his shop to buy meat, and pulled out a red handkerchief. Costa refused, and the very next day, two men came into his butcher shop and shot Costa to death. No one was charged with the murder, but the police were sure the orders were given by Saietta.

One of the Italians being extorted by the Black Hand was the famous opera singer Enrico Caruso. Caruso was, at first, given an ultimatum to pay $2,000 for his safety. Caruso, knowing the murderous reputation of the Black Hand, agreed to pay that amount. However, before he could pay, Caruso received another letter now demanding $15,000.

The nemeses of the Black Hand was a short, barrel-chested police lieutenant named Joseph Petrosino. Knowing Petrosino was hot on the trail of the Black Hand, Caruso immediately took the second letter to Petrosino. Petrosino told Caruso to make arrangements to drop the money off at a prearranged place. When two Italian men showed up to pick up the money, Petrosino arrested them on the spot.

The magnitude of the atrocities perpetrated by the Black Hand was uncovered, when in 1901, acting on a tip from an informant, Petrosino discovered the infamous "Murder Stables" located at 304, 108th Street in Harlem. Petrosino directed his men to dig up the grounds of the entire stables. He was horrified to discover that 60 bodies were buried there. The landlord of record of the stables was none other than Ignazio Saietta, president of the supposedly respectable Unione Siciliana. When Petrosino questioned Saietta as to the slight problem of so many dead bodies being buried on his property, Saietta played dumb, saying he was only the landlord, and not responsible for the work of his tenants. Saietta provided Petrosino with a bogus list of the tenant's names, all of Italian decent, but Petrosino was not able to locate any of these tenants, if indeed they existed at all.

While investigating the Black Hand's roots in Sicily, on March 12, 1909, Police Lieutenant Joseph Petrosino was shot to death in the piazza of the Garibaldi Garden in Palermo. Petrosino's murder was ordered by the Black Hand members in America, and orchestrated by the head of the Mafia in Sicily – Don Vito Cascio Ferro.

However, Saietta was not so lucky himself. Saietta owned operated, with his partner Joe Morello, a bar/restaurant, at 8 Prince Street, in Manhattan's Little Italy. The joint was actually a front for an extensive counterfeiting operation. Counterfeit two and five-dollar bills were shipped to the restaurant from Sicily, in containers of olive oil, or in crates of spaghetti, cheese, and wine. These counterfeit bills were sold throughout the United States for as little as 30 cents on the dollar. Soon, the U.S. Secret Service caught wind of their operation, and in 1909, both Morello and Saietta were arrested, convicted, and sentenced to 30 years in prison.

After Saietta's incarceration, the presidency of the New York Chapter of the Unione Siciliana changed hands from one thug to another, when in 1918, the crown settled on the head of Brooklynite Frankie Yale, real name Uale. Yale's ascension to the throne put an end to the misguided impression that the Unione Siciliana was an Sicilian-only organization. Yale was born in Calabrian town of Longobucco, Italy, and had no Sicilian roots whatsoever. Not only was Yale president of the New York Chapter of the Unione Siciliana, but due to the influence of his friend Johnny Torrio, a Brooklyn boy who was running Chicago with another Brooklynite Al Capone, in 1925, Yale also became National President of the Unione Siciliana.

But more on Frankie Yale later.

While Ignazio Saietta's Unione Siciliana was prospering in New York City, the Chicago chapters of the Unione Siciliana were also going to the wolves.

In 1902, the Chicago boss of the Mafia was Antonio D'Andrea, an ex-priest who in 1902 was also arrested for counterfeiting. After his release from prison, D'Andrea decided to go straight; at least somewhat straight. D'Andrea got a job as a professional translator, than later as a court translator. In 1919, using his legitimate position in the courts, D'Andrea ran for the presidency of the Unione Siciliana. D'Andrea was somehow elected, despite his criminal record, which tells you all you need to know about the crooked path the Unione Siciliana had taken in Chicago.

In 1921, D'Andrea decided to also run for Alderman in the 19th Ward against entrenched incumbent, John "Johnny de Pow Pow" Powers. That turned out to be not such a great idea.

Powers was an incorrigible saloonkeeper, who was known for his attachments to Chicago's more infamous Irish criminals. The Chicago hoods loved "Johnny de Pow Pow," but those not so-in- love with Powers called him "The Prince of Boodlers." Powers had been the powerful Alderman in the 19th Ward of Chicago since 1888, when almost all his constituents were Irish.

According to the Chicago Times, "The only way Powers can get votes is by hypocritical posing as a benefactor by filling the role of a friend in need when death comes. He has bowed with aldermanic grief at thousand of biers. He is bloodless; personally unattractive. His demeanor is one of timid alertness and anxiety to please, but he is actually autocratic, arrogant, and insolent."

One detractor said, "Johnnie Powers distributed turkeys on Christmas Day, but he has robbed the people 364 days in the year and he can afford to give them a little back on the 365th".

The Chicago Herald also wrote, "Powers is as fit to be an Alderman as an elephant is to take part in a roller-skating match."

By 1921, Italian immigrants had steamrolled into Chicago, so much so, Powers' 19th Ward was now 80% Italian, all with equal voting rights with the Irish. Powers still was successful in getting out the Irish vote, but until this time he had also been very successful with the Italian community.

"I can buy the Italian vote with a glass of beer and a compliment," Powers told his pals.

However, running against the Italian powerhouse D'Andrea, president of the powerful Unione Siciliana, changed the equation considerably for Powers. He decided it was time for more drastic actions.

The campaigning by both men was exciting, to say the least. As both pleaded to their constituents for votes, bombs started exploding at an alarming rate; one on Power's front porch, another at a D'Andrea rally (seriously injuring five people), two more on D'Andrea's front porch, and a final one at D'Andrea's election headquarters.

Councilman James Bowler, a fast pal of Powers, told the press, "Gunmen are patrolling the streets. Alderman Powers' house is guarded day and night. Our men have been met, threatened and slugged. Gunmen and cutthroats have been imported from New York City and Buffalo. It's worse than the Middle Ages."

The election was extremely close, but in the end Powers prevailed by a tiny margin of 435 votes.

However, D'Andrea turned out to be a sore loser, and as a result, the body count began to pile up in the Chicago streets.

Paul Labriola was one of the Italians who had backed Powers. On March 9, 1921, Angelo Genna, of the terrible Genna brothers and an ally of D'Andrea, shot Labriola full on holes on the corner of Halstead and Congress streets. On that same day, cigar store owner Harry Raimondi, who had switched sides from D'Andrea to Powers, was shot five times in the back, behind the counter of his cigar store.

In quick succession, D'Andrea had his men eliminate Powers' loyalists, Gaetano Esposito, Nicolo Adamo, and Paul Notte. Powers' faction countered back by killing Joe Marino and Johnny Guardino, two of D'Andrea's most capable men.

On May 11, 1921, while D'Andrea was playing cards at a local restaurant, three men drove past the entrance to the apartment building where D'Andrea lived with his wife and two daughters – 902 South Ashland Avenue. After the driver parked the car in a narrow alley on the side of the building, the two other men quietly exited the car. They pried open an alley window with a chisel, then crept through a coal bin to the basement stairs. Up the stairs they went, until they stopped at a vacant ground floor apartment right across the hall from D'Andrea's apartment; an apartment they knew was vacant, because they had told the occupant, Abraham Wolfson, to move out, or die.

Shortly after, they watched from an open window facing the street, as D'Andrea's car, driven by his bodyguard Joe Laspisa pulled up to the entrance. D'Andrea got out and walked into the building as Laspisa drove away. As soon as D'Andrea reached the front door of his apartment, the two men opened fire with two shotguns. D'Andrea took the two blasts full in the chest, but he would not go down without a fight. As his two killers exited the building the way they had entered, D'Andrea, lying in a pool of his own blood, fired five times at the fleeing men. But to no avail.

When the police arrived, they found a note pinned to the floor of the vacant apartment, along with a two-dollar bill. The note said: "This will buy flowers for that figlio di un cane." Translation: "Son of a bitch."

D'Andrea died a few hours later in Jefferson Park Hospital, after telling his wife and daughters, "God bless you."

D'Andrea's demise left a vacancy at the top of the Chicago chapter of the Unione Siciliana, which was quickly filled by Mike Merlo, who was on vacation in Italy when he heard his good friend D'Andrea had run into some bad luck. Merlo was considered a conciliator; someone who felt peaceful negotiations was better than blasting someone with holes. Still, that did not stop Merlo from immediately ordering the murder of the men involved in D'Andrea's killing.

Irishman Dion O'Banion was the head of the notorious North Side Gang, which was in constant conflict with the Italian mob led by Johnny Torrio and Al Capone, over who had the right to sell their illegal booze in which bars in Chicago, and in the surrounding rural areas. However, Merlo, for some unknown reason, liked O'Banion and as long as Merlo, who as president of the Unione Siciliana was as powerful in Chicago as Capone and Torrio, kept O'Banion under his wing, O'Banion life was secure.

Still, O'Banion, who owned and operated a Chicago flower shop on the side, couldn't wait to stick to his supposed Italian friends.

With a broad smile on his handsome Irish face, O'Banion approached Torrio and Capone, and offered to sell them his Sieben Brewery, on the North side of Chicago. The Sieben Brewery, which was under the protection of the North Side cops, had the reputation of producing the best quality beer in the entire state. O'Banion told the two Italian mob bosses that he had made enough money in the illegal hootch business, and that he was quiting completely, and settling with his lovely wife on a obscure ranch in Colorado. Capone and Torrio were delighted at the prospect of buying the brewery, and they didn't even flinch when O'Banion told them the price was half a million dollars. As a gesture of good will, O'Banion offered to assist in the delivery of one last shipment. Then he said he was out and gone for good.

On May 18, 1924, thirteen trucks stood inside the Sieben Brewery, manned by twenty two men. Each truck was loading up to their full capacity with cases of beer, which due to the fact the half a million dollars had already changed hands, now belonged to Torrio and Capone. Two policemen on O'Banion's pad, stood guard to make sure everything went hunky dory. Also on the premises supervising the operation were Torrio, O'Banion, and O'Banion's right hand man Hymie Weiss. Capone was absent because he was on the lam for killing a thug named Joe Howard.

All of a suddenly, before the first truck had left the brewery, an avalanche of cops descended upon the brewery like roaches swarming a loaf of bread. The cop in charge of the raid was a Chief Collins, and in minutes, the beer trucks had been seized, and Torrio, O'Banion, and Weiss were arrested.

The three men were soon released on bail, but Torrio, who was known as "The Fox," smelled a rat. He had cops on his payroll too, and one of them informed Torrio that O'Banion was in on the raid, and only agreed to be arrested to cast suspicion away from himself.

Torrio was further incensed when he was informed that O'Banion was bragging about how he set up the Sieben Brewery raid, saying, "I guess I rubbed that pimp's nose in the mud alright."

Torrio immediately set up a meeting with O'Banion nemeses Angelo Genna and his brothers Mike and Tony, Capone, and himself, to discuss what to do about O'Banion. The group unanimously voted to whack O'Banion. However, Torrio did caution the group that Mike Merlo, the powerful president of the Unione Siciliana, was still in O'Banion's corner. Angelo Genna told Torrio not to worry. Merlo was deathly sick with cancer, and, in fact, would die on Saturday, November 8, 1924, less than a week after the meeting. Frankie Yale, still the head of the National Unione Siciliana, flew in from New York City, and he appointed Angela Genna the new head of the Chicago chapter of the Unione Siciliana. Yale also renamed the group the "Italo-American National Union," thereby justifying the fact that he, a Calabrese, could rightfully be the president of the former Sicilian-only organization.

With Merlo out of the way, the Chicago mob, with the blessing of the Italo-American National Union, planned O'Banion's demise.

Merlo's funeral was, up until that time, the biggest funeral in Chicago history. More than $100,000 worth of flowers were ordered, and as a result, O'Banion's flower shop was bombarded with requests for numerous flower displays. On Sunday, November 9, O'Banion and his partner William Schofield spent the entire day in their flower shop weaving lilies, roses, orchids, and carnations into wreaths of various sizes. Capone had ordered $8,000 worth of red roses, and Torrio placed an order for $10,000 worth of various types of flowers and floral displays

Near closing time on Sunday, Angelo Genna phoned the flower shop and told Schofield that he needed to order another wreath, and that he would come to pick it up the following day. The vast amount of orders necessitated Schofield and several of his employees to stay up almost the entire night fulfilling their floral obligations.

At around noon on Monday, O'Banion was alone in the back room of the flower shot clipping the stems off chrysanthemums. The only other person in the flower shop was a black porter named William Crutchfield, who was busy sweeping up the mess from the day before. Suddenly, three men entered the shop. Two of Torrio's men, John Scalise and Albert Anselmi, were familiar to O'Banion, but the third man was a total stranger.

O'Banion came out of the back room and said, "You boys here for Merlo's flowers?"

The stranger was none other than Frankie Yale, who had been imported to Chicago once before, to eliminate Torrio's uncle-through-marriage and Chicago mob boos "Big Jim" Colosimo. Colosimo's sudden demise paved the way for Torrio and Capone to take over the town.

Yale extended his hand to O'Banion, "Yes, we are here for the flowers."

O'Banion took Yale's hand, when suddenly, Yale yanked O'Banion's hand toward him, and pinned both of O'Banion arms to O'Banion's sides. Before O'Banion could extricate himself, Scalise and Anselmi fired six bullets into O'Banion. Two blasted into O'Banion's chest, another hit him in the cheek, and two more buried themselves into O'Banion's larynx. The final shot, which was the capper, embedded itself in O'Banion's brain. The guns had been fired at such close range, there were scorch marks on O'Banion's face.

O'Banion's funeral was even bigger than Merlo's funeral. O'Banion's coffin, which was made of solid silver with bronze double walls, cost $10,000 alone; four times more than the average yearly pay of a Chicago wage-earner.

After Merlo's death, being the head of the Chicago chapter of the Italo-American National Union (formerly the Unione Siciliana), was the kiss of death. Within a year, Angelo Genna was murdered by members of O'Banion's North Side mob. Genna's place was taken by Samuzzo "Samoots" Amatuna, who was killed within a few months after he took Genna's place, by another North Side mobster, Vincent "The Schemer" Drucci.

After Amatuna's demise, Capone, who was now the Chicago boss due to Torrio's retirement, inserted one of his pals, Antonio Lombardo, as boss of the Chicago chapter of the Italo-American National Union. This was done without the blessing of Frankie Yale, who would not be Capone's friend much longer. It seemed that Yale had wanted to appoint Joe Aiello as the new boss of the Italo-American National Union in Chicago. Aiello was not too friendly with Capone, and in Yale's opinion, was more likely to pay the proper tribute to Yale in New York city rather than Lombardo, who was closely aligned with Capone.

Yale and Capone were now at cross-purposes, and if Capone needed another excuse to whack Yale it was presented to him in the spring of 1928. Capone and Yale were partners in the distribution of illegal whiskey, which was sold in the Chicago speakeasies, and speakeasies in the rural suburbs. The booze would arrive from Canada, and was transported through New York in trucks, on it's way to Capone in Chicago. It was Yale's duty to ensure the safety of those shipments. However, Capone was dismayed to discover that some of his trucks were being hijacked on route from New York City to Chicago by none other than Yale himself.

On Sunday afternoon, July 1, 1928, Frankie Yale was sitting comfortably in his Sunrise Club, located on 14th Avenue and 65th Street in Brooklyn. Suddenly the phone rang and Yale was informed that his new wife Lucy was in some sort of predicament concerning their year-old daughter. Yale associate Joe Piraino offered to drive Yale home, but Yale refuse the offer. Instead he jumped into his new light-brown Lincoln and headed down New Utrecht Avenue. The Lincoln had been bullet-proofed, but not the windows, which turned out to be a fatal mistake.

At 44th Street, Yale stopped at a red light, and he noticed that a black Buick occupied by four men were following him. Yale jumped on the gas, turned down 44th Street, and a wild chase ensued. The Buick managed to pull alongside Yale's car and the four men opened fire. Yale was hit by a barrage of bullets fired through the window of his car. The weapons used were two .45 caliber revolvers, two sawed-off shotguns, and a new invention called the Tommy Gun, or Thompson Submachine Gun, which fired bullets from a .45 caliber, 20-round magazine. Yale's car swerved out of control and crashed into the stoop of a house located at 923 44th Street. When the police arrived minutes later, Yale was indeed very dead.

The death of Frankie Yale greatly reduced the need for and the influence of the Italo-American National Union. In Chicago, Capone ran the town, and he soon eliminated both Lombardo and Aiello with bullets. In 1930, Capone put in Agostino Loverdo as the new president of the Italo-American National Union. Loverdo lasted until 1934, which by this time, Capone had already been sent to prison in 1932 on an income tax evasion charge. In 1934, former Capone bodyguard Phil D'Andrea was appointed boss of the Chicago Italo-American National Union by Frank Nitti, who was now running Capone's old crew.

In New York City, after the death of Yale, there was no real boss of the Italo-American National Union. After the Castellamarese War eliminated both Joe "The Boss" Masseria and his successor Salvatore Maranzano, Lucky Luciano became the head of the Italian Mafia and his used the concept of the Italo-American National Union to start a National Crime Syndicate, which included Jewish mobsters, Meyer Lansky, Bugsy Siegel, and Louis Lepke. Irishman Owney Madden was also part of the Syndicate. So in effect, in New York City the Italo-American National Union, formerly the Unione Siciliana, ceased to exist.

In Chicago, Phil D'Andrea kept the Italo-American National Union loosely in place until he dissolved it in 1941, due to the lack of interest from it's members. However, after the dissolution of the Italo-American National Union, the Mafia continued to remain strong in New York City and in Chicago, as well as in other major cities throughout America. The Mafia continues to thrive today as it did in the Roaring Twenties heyday of the Unione Siciliana.

 

 

 

 

Joe Bruno on the Mob – Ex-Mobster Michael Franzese Gives Interview

 

Things like this could have never happened 30 years ago, but since then, people in the Mafia have changed dramatically.

 

In 1984, Colombo Crime family member Michael Franzese was indicted on 14 counts of racketeering, counterfeiting and extortion from the gasoline bootlegging racket. In 1986, Franzese, the son of legendary mobster John "Sonny" Franzese, pleaded guilty to two counts. He was sentenced to ten years in federal prison with $14 million in restitution payments. In December 1987, while in prison, Franzese decided that he wanted to leave the Colombo family and organized crime completely. Usually when a person leaves the Mafia, he does so with toes up, but not Franzese. In 1989, after agreeing to cooperated with prosecutors, Franzese was released from prison after serving three years. Franzese then moved to Los Angeles where he wrote a book called "Quitting the Mob."

 

So it isn't exactly like Franzese has been hiding out from his former pals, but he isn't going out of his way to get whacked either.

 

Franzese recently told the online publication "On the Box," "My boss was extremely upset with me when I walked away, he took it very personally and put the word out on me very strong for a few years. A couple of times the FBI came round my house and told me that they'd had word from informants that there were guys out here who were out to hurt me. They told me that if I didn't leave town then I'd be dead by the end of the weekend, that happened a couple of times some years back when things were quite hot. I took it very seriously and I still do, I never underestimate anybody. Although everyone who might have been after me is either dead or in prison and the new guys don't really care about me. But am I out of the woods? No. If I went back to New York I wouldn't last 24 hours."

 

How true that is is debatable. Most of the guys Franzese was with in his Mafia heyday, and informed on, are either dead, or still in prison. The younger guys have more important things to do than kill someone who did absolutely nothing to them. And it's not as if Franzese has been in deep hiding. Anyone who really wants him, will be able to find him without too many problems.

 

At the present time, Franzese is making his money as a motivational speaker, having spoken on the campuses of over 250 Division 1 colleges. Franzese is also the founder and chairman of the "Breaking Out Foundation." According to the foundation's website, "Breaking Out" is dedicated to educating, empowering, and equipping youth to face life's challenges, especially gambling addiction. So it sounds like Franzese has really turned his life around, for the better.

 

When Franzese was asked by "On The Box" if he missed his old life, he replied, "Do I miss it? Some parts. The most attractive part of the life was the camaraderie among the guys. To have this brotherhood, I don't think there's anything stronger than that when you've got guys watching your back. I miss that – I'd be lying if I said I didn't, we had a lot of good times and the money was rolling in. But the other side of it doesn't make it worth it."

 

I don't agree with what Franzese did as far as becoming a government informant, but there is one thing we both do agree on. Considering the toll on a man's family, and the prospect of either going to prison, or winding up dead, living the Mob life isn't worth the time, or the effort.

 

Being a civilian is the right life to lead. You might work at a back-breaking job, but at least you won't be constantly looking over your shoulder, wondering if maybe your best friend was ordered to put two bullets in the back of your head.

 

 

You can view the article below at:

 http://channelhopping.onthebox.com/20...

 

On The Box Meets Ex-Mafia Boss Michael Franzese

 

January 9, 2012 by Sean Marland

BOARDWALK EMPIRE SEASON ONE: Available on Blu-Ray and DVD from Monday 9th August

 

The five mafia families were just a twinkle in Lucky Luciano's eye in the first season of Boardwalk Empire, but even back then it was commonly accepted that the life expectancy of a mobster could be shorter than Al Capone's temper after a night on the scotch. Very few gangsters ever walk away from the mob without being sent to sleep with the fishes, yet Michael Franzese – a former Capo in the prestigious Colombo crime family – renounced organised crime and forged a career for himself as a youth charity fundraiser and motivational speaker, and lived to tell the tale. As you can imagine, one of the first questions I had for him was: How are you still alive?

 

"One of the most important things to remember is that no one's in prison because of me," he tells me from his home in Califormia. "My boss was extremely upset with me when I walked away, he took it very personally and put the word out on me very strong for a few years. A couple of times the FBI came round my house and told me that they'd had word from informants that there were guys out here who were out to hurt me. They told me that if I didn't leave town then I'd be dead by the end of the weekend, that happened a couple of times some years back when things were quite hot. I took it very seriously and I still do, I never underestimate anybody. Although everyone who might have been after me is either dead or in prison and the new guys don't really care about me. But am I out of the woods? No. If I went back to New York I wouldn't last 24 hours."

 

He may not have been back to Brooklyn for over a decade, but Franzese still retains a distinctive East Coast twang from his days as a high-ranking member of one of the most powerful criminal organisations in America. He tells me that some on-screen gangsters are more accurate than others ("I enjoyed the first season of Sopranos, but if a mob boss was ever visiting a psychiatrist he'd be in the trunk of car within the week, along with the psychiatrist!") and mentions that his old man John 'Sonny' Franzese ("the oldest living member of the Cosa Nostra") knew Lucky Luciano himself.

 

"My dad was a young guy when Lucky went to prison, but had met him. He told me talk on the street about Lucky was always good. 'Made' guys looked up to him, because of the way he carried himself. He was a real tough guy. He said Lucky knew that the real money was in legitimate business, he might have learned that from Lansky. Curiously, my dad always preached that to me when I was a young guy in the life. Maybe he got it from Lucky?"

 

This doesn't really tally with the young and headstrong mobster Terrence Winter gives us in the early Prohibition era, although admittedly Luciano would have been older and presumably wiser by the time he bumped into Franzese's father some years later. "Lucky's character in Boardwalk Empire seems a bit more reckless then Lucky would have been," he agrees. "But that's just my take on him. We had a high regard for a lot of them, because our lives were founded off the back of their work. Some guys they spoke well of, others not too well of. Lucky was definitely one of the architects of the whole system and he was always spoken of fairly well, my dad knew him and actually liked him."

 

Franzese and his contemporaries might laud those who operated during the prohibition era as the.. *ahem* ..Godfathers of the mafia, but the truth of the matter is that if Terrence Winter & Co. had decided to make a series circa 1980, Franzese the character would have seen a fair amount of screen time and he is widely considered one of the biggest earners in modern mafia history. "I was heavily involved in the gasoline business and basically we were stealing taxes from the government on every gallon of gasoline we sold. Back then I was told that it was the most money we saw at any one time since the time of prohibition." According to a Federal report, Franzese made more money for a crime family than anyone since Chicago Outfit boss Al Capone.

 

"I'm sure the mafia wish they had those days back!" he jokes.

 

Coincidentally, after rumours began circulating that he was deceiving bosses by skimming the profits of his gasoline racket, he was called into a meeting that "put him on his guard" about the dangers of life in the mob – as if he needed reminding.

 

"I was making a lot of money for my boss, maybe a couple of million dollars a week from the gas business and other things we were doing, and I got called into a meeting one day where I was told that the word on the street was that I was making billions rather than millions. It was a pretty serious meeting and I never forgot it. I thought to myself 'for all I'm doing, to get challenged like this, this isn't right'. After I got indicted I started to watch guys flip and turn, I remember thinking 'this thing's over'. But I never thought about walking away from the life until I met my wife. Something clicked and I said to myself 'I need to plan an exit strategy'. I wanted to do it quietly, kind of drift away, that's why I took a plea to a racketeering charge and made a deal to do my time out in California, hoping that after 10 or 12 years the guys in New York would forget about me. I'd either be dead or in prison for the rest of my life if I hadn't left. One way or another it was going to take me down."

 

"Do I miss it? Some parts. The most attractive part of the life was the camaraderie among the guys. To have this brotherhood, I don't think there's anything stronger than that when you've got guys watching your back. I miss that – I'd be lying if I said I didn't, we had a lot of good times and the money was rolling in. But the other side of it doesn't make it worth it."

 

The pre-war years may have been a golden era for the mob, but the last couple of decades have been anything but admits Franzese. "It's in trouble there's no doubt," he says after explaining that he's still in touch with people from the family. "The government have put an onslaught on it in the last 20 years, which has been very damaging. They took away a lot of the power bases the mafia had with the unions and other things, so it's in turmoil right now.

 

"But the mob is pretty resilient. Over the last couple of decades the FBI may have been pounding on the mob and putting people away, but then terrorism came along and they took some agents off and the mob now has a chance to rebuild itself and grow again. I don't think we'll see its demise in my lifetime."

 

Who knows, maybe one day a reformed mobster will be telling a journalist stories that his old man told him about Michael Franzese?

 

 

Joe Bruno on the Mob – Steve Flemmi's Son Breaks Silence.

Billy St. Croix is the son of the infamous killer Steve Flemmi, but until recently he felt it was better nobody knew.

 

In 1985, James "Whitey'' Bulger allegedly killed St. Croix's sister, Deborah Hussey, as a favor to Flemmi, Bulger's longtime partner in crime and fellow FBI informant. Flemmi confessed that he watched in 1985 as Bulger allegedly strangled Hussey, who was the daughter of Marion Hussy, a former girlfriend of Flemmi, and St. Croix's mother (To clear things up, St. Croix and Deborah Hussey have the same mother, but different fathers). The reason Flemmi wanted Deborah dead was because Deborah had told her mother that Flemmi had sexually abused her as a child. As a result, Marion Husssy threw Flemmi out of her home, and Flemmi took his revenge against Deborah, by having Bulger strangle the life out of her.

 

Now as the 82-year-old Bulger is set for trial for 19 murders, including Deborah Hussy's, St. Croix, who lived a criminal life himself for a while, wanted to set the record straight as to the truth concerning his mother and dead sister.

 

"I'm so upset and angry that they've made Debbie like her life didn't matter,'' St. Croix said during a series of interviews with the Boston Globe. "She was a victim of sexual abuse from a young age. They just glossed over it and they vilified her and my mother. Not just the government – the media as well.''

 

As for his father, there seems to be no love lost between father and son.

 

"He's a sociopath,'' said St. Croix. "To be able to kill my sister and then go home and have relations with my mother, able to put his arms around my mother knowing how he killed my sister, I would say that's a classic sociopath. Or maybe not even classic. Maybe it's something new.''

 

Amazingly, St. Croix has expressed compassion for Bulger's gal-pal Catherine Greig, who spent 16 years on the lam with the fugitive Bulger.

 

"I see her as a victim like my mother,'' St. Croix said. "I see her as afraid to challenge Jimmy (Bulger). I would say anybody that could tolerate and live under the auspices of James Bulger deserves to be free. I can't even imagine what kind of life she had with him.''

 

Sorry, but I can't agree with St. Croix about his take on Catherine Greig. From all indications, Greig and Bulger lived the good life the 16 years Bulger was a fugitive. In fact, when Bulger and Greig were finally arrested earlier this year in Santa Monica, California, the Feds found over $800,000 in the walls of the condo where they lived. And there's most likely some other Bulger loot floating around the world, and maybe Greig knows the location of that bundle too.

 

. Soon, Greig will stand trial (separate from Bulger) for harboring a fugitive – Bulger. Everyone is innocent until proven guilty. However, from all the available evidence, combined with plain old common sense, it's hard to conceive Catherine Greig will leave court a free woman.

 

 

 

You can view the article below at:

 

http://www.boston.com/news/local/mass...

 

By Shelley Murphy

Globe Staff / January 2, 2012

 

James "Whitey'' Bulger allegedly killed Billy St. Croix's sister, slowly choking the life out of a young woman who had saved Billy from drowning when he was a boy.

 

But when Bulger, one of the FBI's 10 Most Wanted fugitives, was finally captured in Santa Monica, Calif., last June after more than 16 years on the run, St. Croix felt no sense of joy or justice. Unlike other family members of Bulger's 19 alleged victims, St. Croix did not show up at the federal courthouse to get a look at the notorious gangster.

 

"Part of me thought he might be dead. Part of me thought the FBI might be hiding him. And part of me didn't want him to get caught,'' said St. Croix, 51.

 

The reason: He knew that Bulger's return to Boston would take his family back to a place of enormous loss – and shame.

 

St. Croix's father is Stephen "The Rifleman'' Flemmi, Bulger's longtime partner in crime and fellow FBI informant. Flemmi confessed that he watched in 1985 as Bulger allegedly strangled Deborah Hussey, who was St. Croix's sister. Hussey was the daughter from a previous relationship of Flemmi's longtime girlfriend.

 

St. Croix also blames his father for the drug-related death of his other sister and the imprisonment of his brother.

 

St. Croix and his family have remained steadfastly silent about their suffering over the past decade, knowing that some blame them for their own misery. Justice Department lawyers argued in court that Deborah Hussey was murdered, in part, because she was "fraternizing with known criminals.'' The judge sanctioned the lawyers for blaming the victim and her family.

 

Now, as Bulger, 82, prepares to stand trial, St. Croix is speaking out for the first time, expressing sympathy for Bulger's girlfriend, Catherine Greig, and reminding people that Deborah Hussey was a victim, too, and his family was also shattered by the two gangsters who had a corrupt relationship with the FBI.

 

"I'm so upset and angry that they've made Debbie like her life didn't matter,'' St. Croix said during a series of interviews with the Globe. "She was a victim of sexual abuse from a young age. . . . They just glossed over it and they vilified her and my mother. Not just the government – the media as well.''

 

St. Croix said Greig, who had been on the run with Bulger since 1995 and is charged with conspiracy to harbor a fugitive, reminded him of his mother, Marion Hussey. Other victims' families have denounced Greig for enabling Bulger to live in comfortable retirement while evading capture, but St. Croix said Greig may have been dominated by the gangster he calls "Jimmy.''

 

"I see her as a victim like my mother,'' St. Croix said. "I see her as afraid to challenge Jimmy.''

 

St. Croix, who initially followed his father into organized crime, cooperated with authorities after his father confessed to him in early 2000 that he and Bulger killed his 26-year-old sister.

 

St. Croix, a cancer survivor and father of six, became a government witness, but he declined an offer to join the Witness Protection Program. He now lives in another state and asked that his residence not be disclosed.

 

St. Croix has no love for Bulger – "He was very condescending. He was a misogynist'' – but he reserves most of his venom for his 77-year-old father, now serving a life sentence for 10 murders.

 

"He's a sociopath,'' said St. Croix. "To be able to kill my sister and then go home and have relations with my mother, able to put his arms around my mother knowing how he killed my sister, I would say that's a classic sociopath. Or maybe not even classic. Maybe it's something new.''

 

St. Croix, now working on a book about his life with "Seven'' author Anthony Bruno, said his mother, who lives in the Boston area, urged him not to go public, but he needed to tell the story of how his father destroyed his own family, along with so many others.

 

"It's about righting a wrong,'' he said.

 

Deborah Hussey was a baby when her 19-year-old mother, Marion, split from her biological father and began dating 25-year-old Flemmi, a former Army paratrooper who was already involved in bookmaking and loansharking.

 

Flemmi, who was separated from his wife, moved in with Hussey and her toddler. The couple lived in Dorchester and Milton for several decades and had three children together, Billy, Stephanie, and Stephen. The gangster insisted they take the name of their mother's ex-husband. Billy Hussey changed his name after graduating from high school, taking his maternal grandmother's maiden name, St. Croix.

 

He said his father was very controlling of his mother, who was isolated at home while he had relationships with other women. He said his mother told him only recently that Flemmi used to beat her.

 

"She loved him, she hated him, and she feared him,'' St. Croix said. "She wanted to get away from him for years.''

 

Marion Hussey struggled to support the family on her own for five years after Flemmi was indicted on attempted murder charges in 1969 and fled to Montreal. She waitressed, sold home goods, and groomed dogs, while Deborah helped care for her younger brothers and sister.

 

"She had a lot of responsibility,'' said St. Croix, recalling Deborah as kindhearted, often bringing him boxes of baseball cards.

 

In the summer of 1970, 12-year-old Deborah Hussey saved 9-year-old St. Croix's life when he got caught in a riptide and was swept away from the beach during a family vacation on Long Island in New York. Flemmi, still a fugitive, was staying at a beachfront hotel in Montauk with his family. He was on the beach when he saw his son struggling, but was too far away to help.

 

"I was drowning,'' St. Croix said. "I was just too tired and couldn't keep up.''

 

His sister came to his rescue.

 

"Debbie was under the water, holding me up,'' said St. Croix, recalling how she kept him afloat until his father got to him. "This girl saved my life.''

 

Flemmi eventually returned to Marion Hussey after the murder charges were dropped, ushering in a time of prosperity for the family. They lived in a sprawling home in Milton with a swimming pool and tennis courts, but St. Croix said it was not a happy household. His father mistreated his mother and they fought constantly.

 

On Sundays, St. Croix said, his family gathered at his paternal grandmother's house, where Jimmy Bulger – no one called him "Whitey'' to his face – and other gangsters dropped in with their girlfriends for home-cooked Italian meals.

 

"He was always a big presence when I was younger,'' said St. Croix, recalling that Bulger was always impeccably dressed and wore a lot of gold jewelry.

 

"People looked forward to him coming in,'' St. Croix said. "Jimmy would shower us with gifts, $20 bills. He was warm at first and friendly. As I got older I started to see him in a different light.''

 

St. Croix said he grew up with the delusion that there was something honorable about gangsters and thought that if his father and Bulger were involved in murder it was "bad guys killing bad guys.''

 

St. Croix said Flemmi was loving toward his sons, sending both boys to private Thayer Academy in Braintree, but his sisters went to public Milton High School. St. Croix said that years later he learned that both his sisters had been sexually abused by Flemmi as teenagers. Their lives spiraled downward and both became addicted to drugs.

 

Deborah Hussey dropped out of Quincy College and waitressed in Boston's old Combat Zone, engaging in prostitution and robbing bookmakers, according to court testimony.

 

Hussey eventually told her mother that Flemmi had sexually abused her, prompting Marion Hussey to throw the gangster out of the house with no explanation to the children.

 

"She was a broken woman'' after that, said St. Croix.

 

Shortly afterward, around January 1985, Deborah Hussey vanished. Her mother suspected Flemmi had something to do with it and hired a private investigator to try to find her, but Flemmi insisted she had probably run off to California, St. Croix said.

 

Flemmi's youngest son, Stephen Hussey, was the next family member to meet disaster at his father's hands, St. Croix said. In 1997, he was sentenced to 18 months in prison for filing a false affidavit concerning Flemmi's assets in an effort to help him get bail.

 

"I could never forgive my father for letting my brother go to prison,'' said St. Croix, describing his brother as a legitimate businessman who was duped by his father.

 

St. Croix said he was the one who followed his father's footsteps and spent a decade committing crimes, including drug ripoffs, arson, and burglary. But, St. Croix said he quit that life in 1997 as "my loss of integrity bothered me.'' He said he was stunned when it was revealed in court that year that his father was a longtime FBI informant.

 

In October 1999, St. Croix's younger sister, Stephanie, a 38-year-old heroin addict, died on his birthday. The official cause was liver disease, but St. Croix said he believes it was suicide because she left a note accusing their father of molesting her when she was a teenager. Flemmi denied it.

 

That winter, police discovered Deborah Hussey's remains in a Dorchester grave, along with two other victims. When St. Croix confronted his father at the Plymouth county jail, where Flemmi was being held while awaiting trial for racketeering, the gangster confessed.

 

"I'm ashamed because that's my father,'' St. Croix said. "He raised her as a daughter . . . to kill her, have sexual relations with her . . . it's humiliating, degrading . . . for my whole family.''

 

Enraged, St. Croix led investigators to an arsenal of weapons belonging to his father and Bulger. He cooperated against his father and testified at the federal trial of his uncle, former Boston Police officer Michael Flemmi.

 

Later, Stephen Flemmi testified that he was angry at Hussey for telling her mother about the sexual abuse. He said he lured her to a South Boston home, then watched Bulger strangle her. A former Bulger associate said Flemmi twisted a rope around Hussey's neck afterward to make sure she was dead.

 

St. Croix blames his father for instigating the slaying and destroying his own family, along with so many others. But, he said, the FBI is to blame for protecting his father and Bulger from prosecution for years, while they got away with murder.

 

Last year, a federal judge agreed, ruling the government was liable for Hussey's death because of the FBI's corrupt relationship with Bulger and Flemmi. He awarded $219,795 to Marion Hussey, then ordered the government to pay her an additional $5,000 for deliberately humiliating and embarrassing the family at trial. A federal appeals court is weighing the government's appeal.

 

Justice Department lawyers argued that Marion Hussey should have known Flemmi was dangerous, yet stayed with him as he supported her through his life of crime.

 

"I think the biggest thing I want people to know is my mother is not that stereotype nor are my sisters,'' St. Croix said. "My mother has so much hurt and sense of loss of what these families went through. It destroys her.''

 

He said his mother felt a sad kinship with the mother of 26-year-old Debra Davis, a longtime girlfriend of Flemmi who was also allegedly strangled to death by Bulger as Flemmi watched. Flemmi testified that they killed Davis in 1981 because she was leaving him for another man and knew the two gangsters were FBI informants.

 

St. Croix said he knows that his father, who agreed to cooperate with the government to avoid the death penalty, will be called to testify if Bulger stands trial.

 

But St. Croix said that his family doesn't plan to attend the trial and his mother just wants to be left alone. "I don't need to hear all the details,'' St. Croix said. "I'm kind of like my mother. I want it to go away.''

 

St. Croix said he hopes Bulger spends the rest of his life in prison, but thinks Catherine Greig should be released on bail while awaiting trial.

 

"I would say anybody that could tolerate and live under the auspices of James Bulger deserves to be free,'' said St. Croix. "I can't even imagine what kind of life she had with him.''

 

Joe Bruno on the Mob – Catering Hall Wars in Staten Island

This is a case of who's zoomin' who.

 

It all started when alleged Genovese Crime Family associate Frank DiMattina sold his Staten Island catering hall named Ariana's to a man named Walter Bowers in 2010. According to a lawsuit filled by DiMattina in September 2011, the two men agreed Bowers would change the name after one year. Yet one year later, Bowers continued to display the name Ariana's "in the forms of signage on the facade, logo, print advertisements and a website." DiMattina's lawsuit also accuses Bowers of fraud and breach of contract.

 

Yet is was Frank DiMattina who was arrested and is presently on trial for allegedly threatening Bowers with a gun over which catering firm (Di Mattina owns another catering hall also named Ariana's in New Jersey) should be allowed to bid on a lunch contract at a school, St. Joseph at the Sea in Staten Island. Bowers also said that since his dispute with DiMattina, "His telephone lines were cut, glue poured over his awnings, air conditioning vents were sabotaged, security cameras broken, and the business' sign was stolen."

 

However, according to DiMattina's lawyer John Meringolo, Bowers' claims are purely bunk. At DiMattina's trial, Meringolo told the court, "Bowers actually had tried to cheat DiMattina out of $250,000 in the catering hall deal. Bowers never had any intentions of abiding by the sales contract."

 

As for DiMattina threatening Bowers with a gun, Meringolo said it never happened. "There are no witnesses to the alleged intimidation incident other than the purported victim."

 

So it's "he said" versus "he said." No witnesses. No proof DiMattina did anything wrong to Bowers.

 

Unless someone comes up with a smoking gun, and DiMattina's fingerprints are all over that gun, I don't see how DiMattina can be convicted on these charges.

 

Yet, whenever the government sinks its teeth into someone with alleged "Mafia ties," strange things tend to happen.

 

Stay tuned for further developments.

 

 

 

You can see the articles below at:

 

http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/s...

 

http://articles.nydailynews.com/2011-...

 

http://www.nypost.com/p/news/local/br...

 

Vandalism hits once-Genovese catering hall

 

By MITCHEL MADDUX

 

Last Updated: 8:03 PM, January 3, 2012

 

Posted: 8:02 PM, January 3, 2012

More Print

 

Not long after a Genovese crime family associate sold his Staten Island catering hall, the new owner became the target of frequent vandalism attacks, officials said.

 

Brooklyn federal prosecutors told a jury Tuesday that telephone lines were cut, glue poured over awnings, air conditioning vents were sabotaged, security cameras broken, and the business' sign was stolen – all amidst a dispute over the terms of the sale.

 

Then Frank Di Mattina, who sold his Ariana's catering hall in Staten Island, "went for his gun," Assistant US Attorney Jack Dennehy told the jury.

 

The 43-year-old mob associate, known as "Frankie D," confronted his rival caterer, Walter Bowers, with a semi-automatic pistol during yet another dispute over which catering firm should be allowed to bid on a lunch contract at a nearby school, Dennehy said.

 

"Bowers withdrew his bid for the contract the very next day. That's called extortion," Dennehy said.

 

But defense attorney John Meringolo argued that the catering hall's purchaser actually had tried to cheat DiMattina out of $250,000 in the catering hall deal, claiming that Bowers "never had any intentions of abiding by the [sales] contract."

 

Meringolo also told the Brooklyn federal court jury there were no witnesses to the alleged intimidation incident other than the purported victim.

 

Judge Jack Weinstein indicated that Bowers will take the stand today, when he is expected to tell his side of the story.

 

http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/s...

 

http://articles.nydailynews.com/2011-...

 

Staten Island priest bolsters feds mob case in high school lunch contract extortion prosecution

Rival contractor told St. Joseph by the Sea principal "I got a visit." before he bowed out

Comments (2)

By John Marzulli / NEW YORK DAILY NEWS

 

 

A PRIEST took the witness stand Wednesday to bolster the feds' extortion case against a mob associate charged with threatening a competitor bidding for a Staten Island high school catering contract.

 

Rev. Michael Reilly, principal of St. Joseph by the Sea, testified that the leading candidate to win the contract appeared "nervous" and "fearful" when he revealed to the priest that he was withdrawing his bid.

 

"He said, 'I got a visit,'" Reilly said in Brooklyn Federal Court.

 

Earlier, Walter Bowers testified that rival bidder Frank DiMattina had threatened him with a gun if he did not get out of the competition, and also threatened to burn down bagel stores owned by Bowers' business partner.

 

Federal prosecutors say DiMattina is a reputed associate of the Genovese crime family in the crew of longtime gangster John (Johnny Sausage) Barbato.

 

The school lunch contract had been opened to bidding because the previous caterer had fallen out of favor for serving re-heated chicken nuggets, said FBI agent David Fernicola.

 

 

 

JOHN MARZULLI

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

 

A reputed Genovese gangster accused of shaking down a Staten Island caterer now claims he's the real victim.

 

Frank DiMattina is charged in Brooklyn Federal Court with extorting and threatening caterer Walter Bowers with a gun.

 

But the alleged mobster filed a lawsuit in Staten Island Supreme Court on Monday, accusing Bowers of taking a bite out of his business by using his catering hall's name.

 

DiMattina sold Ariana's, his Staten Island catering hall, to Bowers in 2010, and the two agreed Bowers would change the name after one year, the lawsuit says.

 

 

After a year, Bowers continued to display the name Ariana's "in the forms of signage on the facade . . . logo, print advertisements and a website," the suit alleges. It also accuses Bowers of fraud and breach of contract.

 

DiMattina's lawyer filed the complaint only weeks before the start of his client's criminal trial.

 

Assistant U.S. Attorney Jack Dennehy said in court Tuesday that DiMattina had initially threatened Bowers over a competing bid for a contract to cater lunches at a high school, and the terror campaign escalated over the business name dispute.

 

The windows of the catering hall bearing the name Ariana's were smashed, the sign was ripped down and tar was splattered on the outside of Bowers' home and automobile, Dennehy said.

 

Defense lawyer John Meringolo contends that the dispute is a civil matter, not criminal. It is highly unusual for mobsters to try to settle a beef in court.

 

DiMattina, 43, also owns a catering hall in New Jersey called Ariana's and has pitched a reality show about himself called "Banquet Boyz."

 

The feds have alleged he reports to Genovese soldier John (Johnny Sausage) Barbuto.

 

Bowers could not immediately be reached for comment.

 

jmarzulli@nydailynews.com

 

 

Joe Bruno on the Mob – James Riach Goes to Court to Get his Armored SUV Back – Leaves Empty Handed

 

It took James Riach four years to get his day in court, but it turned out to be a waste of time.

 

Riach, accompanied by his lawyer, showed up at B.C. Supreme Court in November in an attempt to get back his armored Chevy Suburban (which Riach estimated was worth more than $80,000) seized by police four years ago.

 

Riach could have used that armored car on August 13, when he was riding with Hells Angels Larry Amero and reputed Red Scorpion gangster Jonathan Bacon in front of the Delta Grande Hotel in Kelowna, BC. The day turned deadly when masked gunmen suddenly opened fire. When the shooting stopped, Bacon was dead and Amero was seriously injured. Miraculously, before police arrived, Riach walked away from the scene relatively unharmed.

 

Four years ago, The Director of Civil Forfeiture put in a claim on Riach's vehicle, and was holding it in an un-named pound. The agency's written claim said that Riach and Ricky Singh Mann, who was in the car with Riach on Dec. 9, 2007 when the car was seized, are in the 'Independent Soldiers,' which is a group centered in the Lower Mainland and is involved in the manufacture and sale of controlled substances."

 

The claim also said, "Riach does not have any or in the alternative sufficient legitimate income to account for his possession of the Chev Suburban. Riach purchased, possessed and maintained the Chevy Suburban in order to provide for his personal protection during and arising out of his unlawful activities."

 

Lawyer Dirk Ryneveld, who was in court representing the Director of Civil Forfeiture, described the Suburban as "tricked out with all kinds of modifications. And it is either an instrument of criminal activity or a proceed of illegal activity."

 

Before the proceedings went any further, according to a published reports in the Vancouver Sun, "Riach and his lawyer agreed to an out-of-court settlement and the trial ended. Terms of the settlement were not disclosed. But the SUV will not be returned to Riach."

 

So what was the big deal about appearing in court to get back a vehicle, then walking out of court empty handed?

 

Maybe a cash settlement was reached with Riach in exchange for the armored car. Or maybe, considering the Director of Civil Forfeiture's claims about Riach's criminality, Riach and his lawyer figured it was best to concede ownership of the vehicle, then walk quietly out of court, before someone put handcuffs on Riach and charged him with criminal acts, if proven in court, could put Riach behind bars for a very long time.

 

Your guess is as good as mine. But my guess, considering an armored car can't do you any good while you're sitting in prison, the real explanation is probably connected to the latter.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The article below can be seen at:

 http://www.vancouversun.com/news/Noto...

 

Notorious B.C. gangster attends court despite multiple death threats

 

 

By KIM BOLAN, VANCOUVER SUN November 30, 2011

 

METRO VANCOUVER – Despite threats to his life, gangster James Riach showed up at B.C. Supreme Court Tuesday to fight to get back an armored Chevy Suburban, which he estimated was worth more than $80,000, and was seized by police four years ago.

 

Riach, identified in court documents as a member of the Independent Soldiers gang, arrived at the Vancouver Law Courts alone and dressed in a grey suit.

 

Just four months ago, Riach survived a gangland hit in Kelowna that left Red Scorpion gangster Jonathan Bacon dead.

 

Riach was in a Porsche Cayenne with Bacon and Hells Angels Larry Amero in front of the Delta Grande hotel on Aug. 13 when masked gunmen opened fire. Bacon died shortly afterwards, Amero was seriously injured and Riach was struck but left the scene before police arrived.

 

No one has yet been charged in the attack.

 

Tuesday was Riach's first public appearance since the shooting, triggering extra security at the courthouse.

 

Members of the Vancouver Police Gang Crime Unit patrolled the corridors and sheriffs set up a search gate and metal detector outside the courtroom where his civil trial challenging the Director of Civil Forfeiture was set to begin.

 

Riach declined to comment to a Vancouver Sun reporter about his bid to reclaim his armoured Chevy Suburban, which he estimated was worth more than $80,000.

 

Nor would he comment on what happened in Kelowna last August.

 

Lawyer Dirk Ryneveld, representing the government agency, described the Suburban as "tricked out with all kinds of modifications" and said it was "either an instrument of criminal activity or a proceed of illegal activity."

 

He told Justice Laura Gerow that Riach leased the seized Suburban in November 2007 and then spent more than $50,000 armouring it.

 

On Dec. 9, 2007 Riach and associate Ricky Singh Mann were driving through East Vancouver when police started following them, pulling the pair over in the 400-block of Windermere. While checking the vehicle, the officers got a radio call about a witness who had seen a gun thrown from the SUV while police were in pursuit.

 

Both Riach and Mann were charged with several firearms counts connected to a loaded Glock police recovered from the witness. Riach and Mann went to trial in Vancouver Provincial Court in 2008. In January 2009 Judge Malcolm MacLean convicted Mann and acquitted Riach.

 

The Director of Civil Forfeiture's statement of claim against Riach said that he and Mann are in the "Independent Soldiers, which the plaintiff says is a group centered in the Lower Mainland and is involved in the manufacture and sale of controlled substances."

 

"Riach does not have any or in the alternative sufficient legitimate income to account for his possession of the Chev Suburban," the claim said. "Riach purchased, possessed and maintained the Chev Suburban in order to provide for his personal protection during and arising out of his unlawful activities."

 

And the claim said the modifications to the vehicle made it overweight and unsafe, something that Ryneveld stressed Tuesday. He also said that since the SUV was seized, new B.C. legislation restricts ownership of armoured vehicles.

 

Ryneveld asked Gerow to admit the earlier provincial court ruling to avoid calling the same witnesses in the civil trial, something that Riach's lawyer Angela Rinaldis opposed.

 

Gerow ruled in favour of the Director of Civil Forfeiture Tuesday afternoon, paving the way for Ryneveld to call his first witness – police gang specialist Doug Spencer.

 

But before Spencer could testify about his knowledge of Riach's criminal involvement, Riach and his lawyer agreed to an out-of-court settlement and the trial ended.

 

Terms of the settlement were not disclosed. But the SUV will not be returned to Riach.

 

kbolan@vancouversun.com

 

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