Mob Rules

by Louis Ferrante

  Galluch died of a heart attack in 1960, thirteen years after Capone expired.

  It’s tough to admit you’ve made a mistake, but denial is for dummies. Don’t worry about your ego, you’ll get over it. If Capone did, you can. Admitting you’re wrong, even to yourself, is the single most important step toward personal growth.

  LESSON 28

  The Bug and the Jaguar: Patience

  LET’S turn to law enforcement’s war on the Mafia for a lesson in patience.

  On television and film, cops break down doors and screech around corners in high-speed car chases while firing guns at the bad guys. That’s bullshit. Most cops and agents never fire a gun except at the range. Investigative work is tedious and takes a ton of patience, especially work involving a crime family.

  A cop or agent investigating a mobster combs through stacks of files and phone records, records license plate numbers, and takes pictures, labeling the photos on a corkboard back at headquarters. I’m getting bored just thinking about the shit they have to do.

  These investigations take years to develop, and one of the strong assets for organized crime agents is patience.

  —Bruce Mouw, former head of the FBI’s Gambino squad

  But patience pays off, which is why there’s always a new Mob pinch in the news.

  There is a famous Aesop’s fable, “The Tortoise and the Hare,” which teaches a lesson about patience. I’ve given the Mob its own version, “The Bug and the Jaguar.”

  Salvatore Avellino, the Lucchese mobster who collected Long Island’s garbage, spent most of his spare time driving around with his don, Anthony “Tony Ducks” Corallo. Agents investigating Ducks and Avellino decided to plant a bug inside Avellino’s Jaguar. The car proved difficult to bug since either Avellino was in the car, or it was locked away in his garage.

  The agents sat and waited.

  One evening, Avellino went to a banquet at the Huntington Town House on Long Island. He gave the valet a generous tip to keep an eye on his car. Luckily for law enforcement, the valet didn’t earn the tip. While the valet chatted on the phone with his girlfriend, listened to the radio, and picked his nose, the agents planted a bug in the Jaguar. The next conversation Avellino had with Corallo was recorded by the FBI. The two wiseguys implicated themselves and others. Patience prevailed; just as the tortoise beat the hare, the bug beat the jaguar.

  Agents sometimes surveil a house or hangout for weeks, even months, awaiting that small window of opportunity to plant a bug. Patience on the part of law enforcement is responsible for countless Mafia busts.

  I hate to admit it, but when it comes to patience, the law’s got one up on the wiseguys.

  In all of life, the greatest rewards involve patience.

  How poor are they that have not patience!

  —Iago, Othello

  LESSON 29

  Stick Your Handouts Up Your . . . : Cultivate Aggressiveness

  FROM youth, I stole, but I never begged. When I realized stealing was wrong, I stopped, but I still never begged.

  I was always full of ambition, but horribly misguided. I only needed to harness my wild ambition and direct it toward legal pursuits. Once I did this, I became a new person, but I kept the attitude that I would take what I want—lawfully.

  Someone who looks for handouts will develop an “I got it coming” attitude and inevitably become helpless. Believe me, you got nothing coming. I understood this hard truth on the streets, the understanding was reinforced in prison, and it was kicked up my ass when I returned to society, eager to make my way in the straight world.

  The Mafia controls labor unions, construction projects, garbage carting, Manhattan’s Garment District; they’ve got their hands in just about every major moneymaking business. Still, as an up-and-comer, I had to pick up a gun and hijack a truck off the street. Just about every Mob boss, including John Gotti, started out this same way, as a hijacker. That’s because there are no handouts in the Mob. You’ve got to make your own way by taking what you want.

  “That’s what most people have missed,” says a former Chicago chief of detectives. “When you look at Capone or any Italian gangsters back then, the key is the aggressiveness of all the Italians. They would do anything to get ahead.”

  —Robert J. Schoenberg, Mr. Capone

  The criminal means by which mobsters acquire wealth is wrong, but their aggressive spirit is right.

  Shortly after John Gotti was convicted at trial and given a life sentence, I also became the target of a major racketeering investigation. Certain I would be taken down, I desperately needed a trial defense.

  I asked my friend Fat George, the caretaker of John Gotti’s Queens hangout, to write a rap song about how Gotti was railroaded by the feds. Next, I contacted a famous rap star and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse: create music and teach me how to rap. If I could launch the song before I was indicted, I’d have a defense: I defended John Gotti, and as a result, the feds were now after me.

  When the song was completed, I approached Mafia-connected music distributors, all of whom shied away from my endeavor, frightened of the unwanted attention they’d attract. Now what? I knew nothing about the music business. Scrap the project? Lie down and die? Hell no! I picked up the Yellow Pages and began banging on the doors of every music distributor in New York until I found a company that agreed to distribute my song.

  This system of ours gives to each and every one of us a great opportunity if we only seize it with our hands and make the most of it.

  —Al Capone

  The judge presiding over my case denied me the song as a trial defense, but it was distributed worldwide. And although it didn’t help me out of my legal problems, it taught me that if I applied my “take what I want” attitude in a legit way, I could be successful. I used this lesson years later when trying to find my first book publisher.

  Every day, go out there and take what you want, just do it the right way.

  LESSON 30

  Be the Master of Your Own Fate, Not a Master of Disguises

  GAMBINO underboss Aniello Dellacroce was nicknamed “O’Neil,” a shortened moniker for Father Timothy O’Neil, a clerical name Dellacroce picked up after he dressed as a priest to carry out a murder contract.

  Sicilian boss Bernardo Provenzano showed up at a covert Mob meeting wearing a bishop’s robe with miter and sash.

  The hit men who shot Irish gangster Punchy McLaughlin in the parking lot of Boston’s Beth Israel Hospital were dressed as rabbis.

  And a Lucchese hit man masqueraded as a doctor when he tried to finish off Mob stoolie “Fat Pete” Chiodo as Chiodo lay in a hospital bed.

  A number of mobsters have changed their identity and become someone else to get a job done, then gone back to their old selves.

  Ponder this. If it’s that simple to change one’s identity for a day, why can’t people just as easily change who they are forever?

  They can.

  The human brain has the amazing ability to change itself. Nearly every cell in our body is replaced with new cells over a period of seven years. More astonishing, it takes a seventh of a second to change one’s mind.

  At any time in your life, you can make the decision to change and become a new person.

  Dellacroce could have become a real priest, and the Lucchese hit man a real doctor, if they had wanted to. Who do you want to be? The same God who created Crick and Watson, Newton and Einstein, Bill Gates and Steve Jobs, also created you.

  Can everyone be an Einstein? Science is getting ever closer to solving the complex puzzle that is the human brain. And it’s beginning to look as if there’s genius in all of us.

  —The Sunday Times (London)

  All the great men and women who’ve made a mark on this earth were made of the same exact stuff as you. No magic you don’t possess, no hocus-pocus; they simply discovered their purpose and busted their asses.

  When I decided to become someone new, I ditched my Mafia aspirations and discovered a love for re
ading and writing. It took many years to develop into a writer, but I wouldn’t quit.

  Every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future.

  —Oscar Wilde

  After publishing my first book, Unlocked, I was invited to speak and sign books at a book fair in San Francisco. A limousine picked me up from the airport and drove me to my hotel. There were no parking spaces in front of the hotel so I told my driver to double park and pop the trunk.

  After removing my suitcase from the trunk, I found myself pinned between the limousine’s rear bumper and the front bumper of a truck. The truck driver had pulled up dangerously close to me, not giving me much room to move. Having just hopped out of a limo, he probably thought I was some rich jerk-off and was fucking with me. I laughed it off.

  The fact that it was an armored truck also amused me—a bit of a coincidence given my past.

  When I shimmied my way out from between the bumpers, I noticed the company name on the side of the armored truck. Before this trip, I had traveled to San Francisco one other time in my life, to stick up an armored truck belonging to this same fleet.

  I smiled. After a slew of bad decisions, I had made the right choices in life. It took time and plenty of ups and downs, but I answered the bell, admitted I was wrong, decided to change who I wanted to be, and discovered my purpose.

  I’m no neuroscientist, but I felt as though my brain responded to my decision to change and began creating new cells, or rearranging neurons from the configuration of a mobster to that of a writer. I’m no mystic either but I assure you, following my decision, the universe followed suit and all the right doors opened for me.

  I accepted the armored truck coincidence as a nod of approval from those mysterious forces we all know exist.

  As I walked into the hotel lobby, I glanced back at the truck and said, “Thanks.” To myself? To God? To people who helped me? To whom, I’m not sure.

  Life is a bunch of decisions. If your first bunch sucks and lands you in the shithouse, start making new decisions until you’ve gathered up a fresh bunch that brings you to a brighter place. All the mistakes you’ve made along the way weren’t mistakes at all, but experiences. Lessons. As this books proves, you can use every last experience you’ve lived through, good and bad, to be great at what you finally find you’re meant to do.

  I put men to death . . . lost at cards . . . rioted with loose women, and deceived men. Lying, robbery, adultery of all kinds, drunkenness, violence, and murder, all committed by me, not one crime omitted . . . such was my life.

  —You would suspect this to be the confession of a Mafia informant, not an excerpt from My Confession, autobiography of Leo Tolstoy, acclaimed author of War and Peace.

  We are all made of the same stuff.

  PART II

  LESSONS FOR A CAPO (MIDDLE MANAGEMENT)

  Cosa Nostra and affiliates are as big as U.S. Steel, the American Telephone and Telegraph Co., General Motors, Standard Oil of New Jersey, General Electric, Ford Motor Co., IBM, Chrysler and RCA put together.

  —Time magazine

  LESSON 31

  Bacon, Lettuce, and DeMeo: You’re Responsible for Your Crew

  IN the late seventies and early eighties, Gambino wiseguy Roy DeMeo headed a murderous Brooklyn crew. The scent of blood gave DeMeo a hard-on. In addition to Mob hits, DeMeo killed innocent people, proving he was a demented serial killer masquerading as a gangster. His Mafia superiors, including his capo Nino Gaggi, overlooked his psychopathy because of his knack for disposing of the family’s unwanted problems.

  In 1977, when DeMeo was just beginning his rampage, he did some stolen car business with a hood named John Quinn. When Quinn got pinched, he decided to flip. DeMeo got wind of Quinn’s defection and invited him to a meeting at the Brooklyn lounge where DeMeo and his crew chopped up most of their victims.

  Quinn arrived at the lounge accompanied by his teenage girlfriend, Cherie Golden.

  As Golden waited in Quinn’s parked car, Quinn went inside the lounge and was shot in the head. While Quinn’s body was being butchered inside, two of DeMeo’s crew members approached Golden outside and started to bullshit with her. They were slick talkers, and Golden had no reason to be concerned—until one of them pulled out a gun and shot her in the face. The other man shoved her dead body onto the floorboard under the glove compartment, as casually as one would an empty McDonald’s bag. They dumped her and the car, then returned to the lounge to help dismember Quinn’s body. It was a typical day’s work for DeMeo and his crew.

  According to the Mob’s rule book, eliminating a snitch like Quinn is mandatory conduct. Blowing away a snitch’s nineteen-year-old girlfriend is another story; the Mob does not condone that kind of behavior.

  The murder of Cherie Golden made the newspapers. When Gambino boss Paul Castellano learned through the streets that DeMeo was responsible, he summoned DeMeo’s capo, Nino Gaggi, demanding an explanation.

  Every man is responsible for the actions of his crew, so Gaggi would have to either kill DeMeo or convince Castellano that the murder was justified. Gaggi was earning big with DeMeo, so he decided to plead his case.

  Gaggi told Castellano that Golden was a potential informant, privy to Quinn’s criminal affairs, and had been disposed of to protect the family. DeMeo’s large profits passed through Gaggi’s hands into the palm of Castellano, so, blinded by the bacon, Castellano swallowed Gaggi’s lame excuse and allowed Gaggi and DeMeo to live.

  A good boss holds his capos responsible for their own actions as well as the actions of anyone under their command. Castellano did not assign responsibility to anyone involved in the Golden murder, and for that he would pay dearly.

  A short time later, Gaggi and DeMeo became entangled in a federal racketeering indictment that also netted Castellano. At this point, Castellano grew angry with DeMeo, blaming the indictment on DeMeo’s recklessness. (Note that Castellano wasn’t nearly as concerned with DeMeo’s recklessness when Golden was the victim.) On Castellano’s orders, DeMeo was murdered, but it was too late: the damage to Castellano could not be undone.

  Unlike Castellano, Bonanno family boss Joseph Massino ran a tight ship; every capo was truly responsible for the actions of his crew. Period.

  Around the time DeMeo, Gaggi, and Castellano were passing winks over the murder of a teenage girl, the Bonanno family was infiltrated by undercover agent Joe Pistone, aka Donnie Brasco.

  The movie Donnie Brasco didn’t win any Academy Awards, but real-life agent Joe Pistone deserved one for his acting. Pistone bullshitted his way into a Bonanno crew headed by capo Dominick “Sonny Black” Napolitano.

  After a long investigation, Pistone’s identity was deliberately revealed. The Bonanno mobsters who had mistakenly accepted Pistone into their crew all knew that with Massino at the helm their fate was sealed.

  The first to walk the plank was wiseguy Anthony “Tough Tony” Mirra. Mirra had been the first to bring Pistone around and introduce him to everyone. To Mirra’s credit, he knew he was a dead man, but he didn’t turn stoolie. Mirra was killed by both his families, the Bonanno family who ordered the hit, and his immediate family, his nephew and uncle, who carried it out.

  Don Massino wasn’t done making his point.

  Dominick “Sonny Black” Napolitano was next to go. Napolitano didn’t bring Pistone around and was duped like everyone else, but that didn’t matter to Massino. Napolitano was responsible for his crew, and anything that went wrong under his command was his fault. Like Mirra, Napolitano knew his fate but didn’t flip. He accepted responsibility for his crew, and paid for their error with his life.

  Massino sent a clear message to anyone considering the excuse, “It’s not my fault.” Had Castellano acted in the same manner, he might still be alive today. Castellano’s failure to enforce rules was a sign of weakness his future murderers took careful note of.

  Castellano should have had DeMeo’s head delivered to the doorstep of Cherie Golden’s family. Instead, he turned a cheek, reache
d out his hand, and took another envelope. Bum.

  If you work for a good company, if you’re under a sharp boss, know that everything is your responsibility.

  During World War II, Prime Minister Winston Churchill gave speeches referring to Hitler and his Nazi thugs as “gangsters.”

  Hitler was little more than a Mob boss, using violence and intimidation to control the German nation. He bullied most of Europe into submission and refused to heed the battlefield advice of his competent field marshals. When defeat was imminent, Hitler acted like a Mob boss turned rat; he blamed everything on everyone else.

  After Germany was reduced to a pile of rubble, Hitler had the balls to say the German people were unworthy of his leadership and deserved what they got. Talk about denial.

  Before blowing his twisted brains out, Hitler left a suicide note that claimed he never wanted war, and none of it was his fault. Whose fault was it, Stewie Griffin from Family Guy?

  Great men accept responsibility for their own mistakes, as well as the blunders that occur under their command.

  General Dwight D. Eisenhower, Supreme Allied Commander, was charged with the task of taking down the Nazi Mob boss.

  Few people know that Eisenhower prepared a speech in which he accepted full responsibility for the Normandy landings in the event the operation failed. Any general under Ike’s command could have fucked up the whole thing, but Ike knew, as Supreme Allied Commander, that he was responsible for everyone under him.

  The operation was a success, and the Mob boss was eventually deposed, which meant that Ike did not have to recite his speech to the public.