The Quiet Don: The Untold Story of Mafia Kingpin Russell Bufalino

by Birkbeck, Matt

  “Did you mean it, or were you kidding?”

  “No, I wasn’t kidding. I was mad. He used my name to rob a jeweler.”

  After Bufalino stepped down, Akerman received permission from the judge to play the audiotape of Bufalino threatening to kill Napoli. Bufalino was angry, and the man who for more than forty years maintained a quiet dignity in public could be heard angrily spewing how he was going to kill Napoli.

  This, said Akerman, was the real Russell Bufalino.

  The jury delivered a guilty verdict, and Bufalino was subsequently sentenced to fifteen years in prison. At seventy-eight years old, Russell Bufalino was facing the longest prison term of his life, and there wasn’t a politician or police officer that could help him or others he had business with.

  A year earlier, representative Daniel Flood was forced to resign from Congress after he pleaded guilty to one count of conspiracy to violate the federal campaign laws for taking cash payoffs. Flood had been charged with taking hundreds of thousands of dollars from assorted lobbyists and contractors. He was acquitted, but the lone holdout juror was later the subject of a jury-tampering investigation. Flood accepted a plea deal prior to a second trial.

  Flood also escaped charges that he had steered tens of millions in defense department contracts to Medico Industries. The FBI had wiretapped Medico’s offices and captured Bufalino discussing Medico business as well as talking about the Medico brothers and identifying them as members of his crime family. Flood was routinely granted access to the Medico’s company jet, but he was never charged in any Bufalino-related business.

  And Bufalino underboss James Osticco was facing a lengthy prison term after he was found guilty for fixing the 1977 DeNaples trial. Frank Parlopiano provided the critical testimony, relaying how he had been told that Osticco had approached a member of the jury and bribed her and her husband with $1,000 in cash and a set of tires. The woman was the second juror that Osticco had approached after the jury forewoman declined his advances.

  The forewoman died a year later in a mysterious fire.

  * * *

  ON MARCH 23, 1982, attorney Charles Gelso stood before a three-judge panel of the U.S. Court of Appeals, Second Circuit, in Manhattan and argued that his client, Russell Bufalino, had received a bum rap.

  Gelso reviewed the details of the case, summarizing how Bufalino allegedly tried in April 1976 to recover a $25,000 debt from Jack Napoli by threatening his life and how, unbeknownst to Bufalino, Napoli had a tape recorder, and the wiretap would be used as evidence to arrest and subsequently convict Bufalino in August 1977. During his four years in prison, Bufalino sought to recruit a prisoner to kill Napoli. Bufalino was later convicted of conspiring to violate the civil rights of a U.S. citizen and endeavoring to obstruct justice. Bufalino was subsequently convicted and sentenced to fifteen years in prison and a $10,000 fine.

  Gelso appealed the verdict on several grounds. He argued that evidence, such as the Napoli audiotape, was inadmissible because it was highly prejudicial. The judges concluded that the tape had actually served a double purpose of negating Bufalino’s testimony that he never ordered Napoli’s murder and also established a motive for killing Napoli.

  On June 15, 1982, the court denied his appeal, and now seventy-eight, Bufalino was resigned to spending his golden years inside a federal penitentiary.

  SEVENTEEN

  On the morning of January 2, 2008, Pennsylvania State Police troopers Dave Swartz and Rich Weinstock knocked on the door of the residence of the Rev. Joseph Sica. The Catholic priest lived on the grounds of Saint Mary of the Assumption Church, and when he opened his door, he was informed that he was under arrest and charged with perjury for lying about his prior friendship with Russell Bufalino to the grand jury investigating the state Gaming Control Board and Louis DeNaples.

  Sica was handcuffed and put in the back of a state police cruiser, but not before the troopers found $1,000 in cash and a handgun in his home. The spiritual advisor and “bodyguard” to Louis DeNaples was distraught. He initially threatened the troopers, saying the new head of security at Mount Airy Casino, Joe Marut had information on both troopers and they would be exposed unless he was released. Merut was a former police major in charge of the Scranton region. The troopers ignored the threats and continued driving down I-81. Sica then asked to use a cell phone.

  At Sica’s hearing in Harrisburg, Dauphin County first assistant district attorney Fran Chardo described the priest’s prior relationship with Russell Bufalino and how Sica had lied to the grand jury about their friendship, which Chardo said could be traced back to the 1970s.

  Chardo revisited Sica’s appearance before the Dauphin County grand jury in August 2007. The priest wasn’t scheduled to testify. But prosecutors were curious about his relationship with DeNaples, and they were downright mesmerized when Billy D’Elia connected Sica to Bufalino, a relationship that Sica later denied during his testimony.

  Sica said he had met Bufalino once in the early 1980s, when Bufalino was hospitalized prior to his second prison term. Sica had been visiting the hospital’s Catholic patients and happened upon an ailing Bufalino. But D’Elia had already testified that Sica and Bufalino had known each other for years. There were photos, provided by D’Elia, of Bufalino and Sica arm in arm together at Sica’s ordination party and at a barbecue soon after. Yet another photo showed Sica at a table embracing Billy D’Elia and Bufalino. Bufalino didn’t socialize with just anyone, and his presence clearly indicated a much closer and deeper relationship with Sica and his family.

  Sica tried to come to Bufalino’s aid following his final conviction, writing letters on Bufalino’s behalf seeking his release from prison. Sica even wrote to the wife of Pennsylvania governor Richard Thornburgh, Ginny Thornburgh, on behalf of Bufalino, referring to the mob boss as an innocent man and pleading for her to convince the governor to help “his friend.”

  It was Chardo who quizzed Sica before the grand jury, and it was those denials about his ties to Bufalino that led to the perjury charge.

  “You didn’t know him well, I take it?” said Chardo.

  “Right,” said Sica.

  “You didn’t have any sort of personal relationship with him?”

  “No.”

  “How many times did you meet Russell Bufalino?”

  “At the present time I can’t really recall.”

  “How long ago would you have met Russell Bufalino for the first time?”

  “Twenty-six years ago.”

  “Certainly you didn’t have any personal relationship with Russell Bufalino?”

  “No.”

  “Or any member of his family?”

  “I met his wife, Carrie.”

  “Did you have any personal relationship beyond that with Russell?

  “No.”

  Unbeknownst to Sica, the grand jury had already learned that Bufalino had attended his ordination party, had photos of Sica and Bufalino and had read a thank-you note Sica had written to Bufalino and his wife.

  Dear Russ & Carrie—Words cannot express my thankfulness to both of you! You have done a lot for me and you mean a lot to me. Rest assured of my continued love and prayers. Love, Joe.

  Standing before the judge wearing his collar and handcuffs, Sica apologized for threatening the troopers following his arrest but otherwise remained mum, following the instructions given to him earlier during his conversation with DeNaples inside the troopers’ car.

  While the court was hearing about Sica’s alleged relationship with Bufalino, the media began delving into the priest’s past. The Allentown Morning Call reported that Sica had incurred debts that reached $225,000. Most of the money, nearly $150,000, was owed to the First National Community Bank, which DeNaples chaired and was its largest stockholder.

  No one knew how a Roman Catholic priest living on a paltry $880 per month salary could receive that kind of credit from a bank. Si
ca had secured personal loans of $77,202 and $54,000, and also obtained a $16,500 loan to buy a 1996 Chevrolet Trailblazer, Eddie Bauer Edition. Aside from the loans from First National Community Bank, Sica also managed to obtain a $20,000 personal loan from LA Bank, a $15,000 personal loan from Community Bank & Trust Company and a $10,019 credit line from Associates Investment Company, of Charlotte, North Carolina, and he had balances on his Chase and Discover credit cards that totaled $15,176.

  Sica had also filed for bankruptcy in March 1997 but later withdrew the filing.

  Sica’s arrest and the photos of the priest were front-page news and served as a prelude for what everyone now expected would follow—an indictment against Louis DeNaples. The wait wasn’t long. On January 30, 2008, DeNaples was charged with four counts of perjury for lying to the gaming board about his ties to Bufalino, D’Elia and two other men.

  Ed Marsico delivered the announcement together with state police commissioner Jeffrey Miller inside the capitol building in Harrisburg. According to the findings of fact, the grand jury determined that DeNaples had lied during his testimony under oath about his past relationships with Bufalino, D’Elia and others when he appeared before the gaming board on August 16 and September 28, 2006.

  When questioned about D’Elia, DeNaples had simply described him as a local guy who was a customer at First National Community Bank and who from time to time visited DeNaples’ auto store to buy car parts. But the grand jury determined there was more to their relationship, one that spanned many years. The transcript from DeNaples’ 2006 testimony before gaming investigators was included in the presentment. When quizzed about William D’Elia, his responses were often vague.

  “Do you recognize this person?”

  “Yes, I do,” said DeNaples.

  “How do you know Mr. D’Elia?”

  “First of all, he’s a local guy that lives in the town not far from us over there and, you know, you hear his name and see him all around. He’s a customer at our bank.”

  “And that bank, you’re talking First National?”

  “First National Community Bank.”

  “Okay, and have you ever met him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. And in what circumstances.”

  “Well, he occasionally was in and out of our parts house to come in there for parts.”

  “Parts houses?”

  “Auto parts.”

  “Have you spoken to him on the phone as well?”

  “Very possibly. He could have called me for something from the bank. That’s where his business is with the bank.”

  “What is the nature of his business?”

  “Pardon?”

  “What is the nature of his business.”

  “Well, originally, how he got to our bank is—and this is going back a long, long time ago—he used to work for an appliance house, that the appliance company did business with our bank. That’s years ago that he worked for them, and then I believe that he might have bought the business or took over the business. We inherited the account with the bank, the appliance company.”‘

  “You just stated that Mr. D’Elia was at DeNaples Auto Parts. Why would he come to your company?”

  “Everybody goes up there. We have a massive automobile dismantling place over there. If you wrecked your car tomorrow and you got a 2006 Mercedes, you could come up and we can get you a door. We have a big operation. We have people from all over the country—rich, poor, professional people. Really, when their cars are broke, they get desperate. They can have the refrigerator broke in the house and the roof leaking but when the car don’t run anymore, they panic and come for parts. It’s a very big and very elaborate parts, dismantling parts company. There’s probably, not to interrupt you, there’s probably not a person up in the northeast that didn’t once or another visit our auto parts for parts for their cars with their kids or their wife.”

  “What does Mr. D’Elia do for a living?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Does Mr. D’Elia have any contracts with Keystone Landfill?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Does he have any contracts with any companies that are owned by you?”

  “No, ma’am. Whatever contract he might have with the mortgage on a bank.”

  “Any grievance, any business relationship with Mr. D’Elia?”

  “Other than if he came to our counter and bought some parts, that could be years ago.”

  “You never met with D’Elia on a regular basis?”

  “Absolutely not. I told you that if he was in our place a couple of times it was for parts. No—it’s all street talk.”

  The grand jury heard a different story from D’Elia, who testified about DeNaples’ attendance at his daughter’s wedding. D’Elia also had evidence to prove it—photographs of DeNaples at the reception. D’Elia also told of his closeness to DeNaples’ family and how he sat in a hospital with DeNaples’ dying father, Patrick. When the elder DeNaples died, D’Elia said Louis gave him his father’s rosary beads, saying his father wanted him to have them. The grand jury also heard about the regular meetings between D’Elia and DeNaples at DeNaples’ auto parts store and how D’Elia would park in the back and walk in through a private entrance.

  Aside from their personal relationship, the grand jury learned that the two men had long-standing business together. D’Elia represented a pay-phone company called BudTel and had obtained permission to place several phones on land or in businesses controlled by DeNaples. One of the phones was placed at DeNaples’ auto parts store. Another one was placed on property owned by the Theta Land Corporation, of which DeNaples was a silent partner. D’Elia also set up at least three meetings between BudTel’s owner, Barry Shapiro, and DeNaples. In 2001, a folder marked “DeNaples” found in D’Elia’s home following a raid by state and federal law enforcement officers revealed other business relationships, including something as innocent as arranging the free printing of brochures for DeNaples’ landfill.

  The second count of the indictment charged DeNaples with perjury for lying about his past relationship with Russell Bufalino.

  From the day he purchased Mount Airy Lodge, in July 2004, until now, no one had ever publicly associated DeNaples with the dead mob boss. All of the stories reported by the media focused on his alleged links to D’Elia. Surprisingly, it was the gaming board’s investigators and their attorneys who raised the Bufalino questions to DeNaples during his testimony on August 16, 2006.

  “Are you familiar with Russell Bufalino?”

  “Only by name,” said DeNaples.

  “B-U-F-A-L-I-N-O. And how do you know him by name?”

  “Again, he was a local guy, you know, you hear all kinds of newspaper things about him and all.”

  “What kind of things did you hear?”

  “Well . . .”

  “In the newspaper or otherwise.”

  “Organized crime or Mafia. I don’t know what that is to tell you the truth.”

  Through Billy D’Elia’s testimony, the grand jury learned that DeNaples and Bufalino knew each other, and well. They too had a long-standing relationship that D’Elia said spanned some thirty years. Once, in the early 1970s, said D’Elia, they were at a prizefight at a local Scranton club when DeNaples complimented Bufalino on a ring he was wearing. Bufalino took the ring off his finger and gave it to DeNaples. On another occasion, following the 1972 flooding from Hurricane Agnes, Bufalino asked DeNaples to repair his wife’s Pontiac, which was declared a loss by the insurance company after it was heavily damaged by the storm. DeNaples gave Bufalino the parts to fix the car. He also gave Bufalino two damaged Fiats, which Bufalino, the trained auto mechanic, could combine into one car, which he used for years. Later, in the mid-1970s, Bufalino bought a Cadillac from DeNaples that had been recovered from a theft.

  D’Elia told another story about how a fi
re had gutted DeNaples’ home, destroying most of his possessions and clothing. Bufalino sent DeNaples three suits to wear at business meetings. And at the annual Italian American Civil Rights League dinner, DeNaples routinely sat at a table next to Bufalino and his underboss, James Osticco.

  DeNaples and Bufalino were clearly close, and the fruits of their relationship resulted in several business interests. DeNaples would often meet with Bufalino’s associate Casper “Cappy” Giumento, who, aside from having attended the Apalachin meeting in 1957, had served as a frequent conduit between Bufalino and DeNaples. D’Elia also intimated that DeNaples could point to Bufalino as the reasons for his success, given that no one could have operated a successful landfill or auto parts operation without Bufalino’s blessing.

  The two other perjury counts were the result of DeNaples’ denials to the gaming board of his relationships with Shamsud-din Ali, the imprisoned Philadelphia Imam, and Ron White, a Philadelphia attorney, who had since died.

  “How about Clarence Fowler, F-O-W-L-E-R.”

  “No.”

  “And I believe he’s also Shamsud-din Ali?”

  “Do I know him? No, but based on this due diligence for this application over here, it’s a possibility that himself and another black person came with a local consultant to our complex to talk about bringing some sludge from Philadelphia to our facility and very, very short conversation. Number one, we don’t take sludge. We had no interest in it. That was that kind of thing. I don’t even know. I can’t tell you—there was two black people and a local consultant who brought them there, a local consultant that lives in the area up by us.”

  “Who is the local consultant?”

  “Brazil, Jamie Brazil. He’s a fund-raising guy, local consultant. His father was a—Chairman of the council City of Scranton for years and the brothers are lawyers. So it’s a prominent family up in the Scranton area.”