Phil Cresta, back at the Fenway Motor Inn, saw nothing even remotely funny about this news.
Once they had transferred the sixty-four bags that they’d believed contained money, the team left the stolen blue car and jumped into the car that Angelo had driven to a predetermined transfer location. They were giddy with excitement as they drove down Columbia Road and then headed for the Fenway Motor Inn. Phil had never seen so many moneybags in one truck, and he was trying to gauge how much money they had stolen. “Cushman was right on the money, it looks like,” Tony said. “Angelo was very quiet on the ride back to the Fenway,” Phil recalled. “I knew something was bothering him, but I was too caught up in the moment to focus on his problems.”
They rolled into the parking lot at the motor inn a little after eight o’clock. “We backed the car up to my room and took one bag out of the trunk. They emptied the contents of the bag onto the lone bed in the room and their hearts dropped. “Get another one,” Phil barked to Tony. Same thing: canceled checks, no money. By the time they had emptied a dozen moneybags on the bed, it was clear that there would be no big payday, at least not that day. Phil was livid. Tony was babbling. Angelo said, “I knew it. There’s no way they were gonna let one man guard fifty mil, no way. We should kill that fucking mick Cushman.”
At noon they turned on the television to catch the news. The cops and the reporters were laughing at them. Phil could hardly bear it. “Nobody knows about this ever, do you hear me?” he screamed. Phil looked at Tony and said, “If Tilley finds out about this, we might as well get out of town. Do you understand, Tony?” Tony shrugged and never looked up.
“What about Cushman? What do we do about him?” Angelo asked. “Not a thing,” Phil said. “You don’t think Cushman will want to take any credit for the stupidest robbery in history, do you? In this business if you got no muscle, you better have good sources. Cushman will be through in this town if word gets out he put this fiasco together,” Phil said.
It got even more embarrassing. The Boston Evening Globe’s front-page story on August 21 read, “Downtown Boston this morning had history’s greatest armored car theft … of canceled checks.” The story went on to say, “The robbery, which took one hour in broad daylight, netted the bandits between $25–$50 million in canceled checks.” The Boston Herald Traveler was much nastier. Its front-page story read, “A pair of bandits, who must have spent their early years transmuting gold into lead, bungled yesterday as they tried to pull off what could have been history’s largest armored car theft. … The only trouble was that the checks were cancelled and scarcely worth the price of an admission to The Lavender Hill Mob. … The bandits may be feeling frustrated right now, but so do the bookkeepers, who will probably have to put in a good deal of overtime in the next few days straightening out the records. One last note … The Herald can’t confirm it, but there are those who claim that the bandits’ convertible was an Edsel, a discontinued model, easily traceable. With their luck, it figures.”
“If I’d had Cushman in front of me then, I probably would’ve whacked him,” Phil recalled. “I knew Angelo was out looking for him, even though I asked him to let it go.” Tony and Angelo took all the bank bags to the incinerator near City Hospital and burned them. “We went from the penthouse to the outhouse in a matter of minutes,” Phil said. “It sure was humiliating. I’m just glad nobody knew who pulled the job.”
Cushman disappeared for a couple of months until things died down. Phil told Tony and Angelo not to dwell on what could have been, and to think about their next score. But that was hard for even Phil to do. Finally he got word from an intermediary that Cushman wanted to talk. The two of them met at Castle Island in Southie. Cushman insisted they meet at a crowded place because he thought he was going to get whacked.
There were no jokes that day, just apologies. He was like a scared child, whimpering and apologizing. He said he’d gotten some bum information. Phil agreed. Cushman then asked Phil about Angelo, and was told he should stay away from Angelo for the rest of his life, or Angelo would shorten that life considerably. Cushman agreed. Phil made it very clear that if he ever mentioned the canceled-check robbery to anyone, Cresta would kill him. Cushman thanked Phil and left. “I never saw Cushman after that day,” Phil noted.
“Angelo was pretty shook up by the fiasco. He stayed in his house for a couple of weeks, which was unlike him,” Phil said. Finally Angelo called Phil at McGrail’s. “He sounded depressed, so I told him we were having a big surprise birthday party at McGrail’s for Tony,” Phil recalled. At first Angelo feigned indifference, but Phil told him how disappointed Tony would be if he was AWOL. Angelo grudgingly agreed to stop by.
When he showed up at McGrail’s he was astounded to hear everyone start singing “Happy Birthday” to him as he walked in the door. “What the hell’s going on, Phil?” Angelo asked as the regulars continued to serenade him. “We’re having a birthday party. What’s it look like?” Phil said, laughing. “You told me it was Tony’s birthday,” Angelo yelled over the singing. “Well, I guess we’re even because I told Tony it was yours.” Phil smiled. “What the fuck are you up to?” Angelo asked angrily. “Lighten up, Ange, I just wanted us to do some celebrating together, that’s all.” “Celebrate!” Angelo yelled sarcastically. “We look like a bunch of no-talent clowns and you want to celebrate? Celebrate what?” “Celebrate that we’re all alive, celebrate that nobody’s going to jail, and celebrate that nobody knows we had anything to do with that canceled-check robbery. Is that enough for you?” Phil angrily shot back. Angelo hung his head and after a few seconds he said shyly, “I’m sorry, Phil. I guess I’ve been acting like an asshole. You’re right. I got nothing to bitch about.” Phil smiled and said, “Well, come on, let’s drink up. And happy birthday.”
That was the last time the canceled-check robbery was ever brought up.
9
Kansas City, Here We Come
DESPITE THE CANCELED-CHECKS FIASCO, the team was doing well. After the Parker House heist, Phil decided that, though there was nothing that matched the adrenaline rush of opening a vault or popping an armored car, for the time being he liked being a jewel thief. “It was like being Cary Grant in To Catch a Thief,” he later remarked.
After the Rideout job in May 1965 and the Parker House heist in October of that year, Phil Cresta began to have a bigger name with the wise guys in Chicago than he did in Boston. That was just the way he wanted it. Between January and Halloween 1965 the team had made over three-quarters of a million dollars.
Bank robberies and armored car hits drew a lot of media attention, though, and that, in turn, drew the interest of people like Angiulo and Tilley. Phil didn’t want that. If Angiulo ever learned that Phil had made over three-quarters of a million dollars in ten months right under his nose, there would have been trouble. The best thing about the Parker House job, Phil decided, was its absence of publicity. The hotel and the insurance companies had taken the hit and kept their mouths shut because they didn’t want to invite copycat robberies. So, for a while, he and his team concentrated on crimes with little publicity.
Thanks to their recent big scores, the Cresta team was able to buy higher-placed ears. Although they kept their street informants, Phil, Angelo, and Tony began to move in new circles. After his Parker House tip paid off, Louie Diamonds, in Boston, became one of their most regular ears for some time. Mari’s husband, Augie Circella, in Chicago, was also turning out to be an invaluable connection. These and other new informants acted as go-betweens, so the Cresta team rarely met face-to-face with the people now selling them information.
If the team liked a potential job Louie or Circella told them about, they went forward. If they didn’t, they looked elsewhere. It was nice to be able to pick and choose.
Many of the Circella sources were guys making six figures but who had gambling or investment “problems” and needed quick cash. One of these indirect six-figure informants led them, through Circella, to Kansas City. Phil soon had an ai
rplane pilot on his payroll.
The pilot had done a lot of work for the Chicago mob. A former TWA pilot, he had gotten in over his head with loan sharks and was forever compromised by the Chicago wise guys. He now chartered legitimate planes, but often for illegitimate purposes. Sometimes he would fly such people as Sam Giancana and Gussie Alex to Vegas or Hollywood. The man jumped at the chance to make money with this new Boston team.
But it was a lot different for the Cresta crew to fly to Kansas City instead of driving around Boston to pull a score; Tony had never been on a plane and he was scared. When Phil told him they we were flying to the Midwest for a job, he asked, “Aren’t there enough jobs in Boston?” “Not like this one,” Phil told him. Tony went along—kicking and screaming, but he went.
On their first flight from Logan in November 1965, Phil and Angelo each brought only a shaving kit. Tony arrived with enough food to feed an army. Knowing that food was his comfort, Phil and Angelo chuckled, but not to Tony’s face. By the time the plane touched down in Kansas City, Tony was the pilot’s buddy, sitting next to him in the cockpit, feeding him his special “sangwiches,” and asking a million questions. He loved every minute of the flight, except the takeoff and landing. They never again had to coax Tony to fly.
Their first job outside New England was just before Thanksgiving 1965 and involved furs. Augie Circella, through his connections, had become very friendly with the Civella family, who ran everything in Kansas City. The Kansas City mob owned the Tropicana Hotel and they told Augie about a fur dealer who stayed there twice a year and who carried particularly precious furs with him. “We had never done anything with furs,” Phil explained, “but Augie assured me they were even easier than diamonds to unload. Plus, he told us, it was wise to make friends with the Civella family, with whom we’d be splitting the take. So we went for it.”
The furrier’s partner had the bad habit of losing money on the ponies. He was in debt to the Kansas City mob for over $100,000 and the meter was running. The Civella family didn’t want to steal anything from a hotel they owned, so Augie had offered to bring in Phil for the job. It was a simple “pick and haul” job, according to Augie. No hardware, no violence, just pick the lock and take the furs. The victim and his partner would collect insurance, part of which would pay back the Civellas. Phil would fence the furs and split that take with Augie.
Phil was assured that the loot would be in the furrier’s hotel room. The guy they were hitting was known to love spending time with the ladies when he was at the Tropicana. This was taken into consideration when Phil planned the score.
The first night in Kansas City, Tony staked out the furrier’s room, waiting at the end of the hall. When the guy came out, Tony followed him down to the lobby and into the lounge. The guy weighed about 280 pounds. He was wearing a leisure suit and a toupee that hadn’t set him back much money. He certainly had an eye for the ladies, but given his looks, the only lady he was likely to take to his room that night would be one who charged for her services. Phil, Angelo, and Tony watched with amusement as the poor guy tried unsuccessfully to pick up one woman after another. Phil recalled, “The guy struck out more than Reggie Jackson on a very bad day.”
That night, after the lounge closed, Phil called Augie in Chicago. “Something wrong?” Augie whispered when he heard Phil’s voice. “It’s late, Phil. You scared me.” Phil humorously related the events of the evening to Augie, who laughed uproariously. Phil asked Augie if he had a woman who would knock the furrier’s socks off just by walking into the lounge. “You want a pro?” Augie asked. “No, no prostitutes. I need a real looker, someone appealing but not cheap.” There were a few seconds of silence and then Augie said, “I got exactly what you need. I’ll call you tomorrow with the details.”
The Accardo family, who ran Chicago at that time, was heavily involved in the movie business. They had vast holdings and many friends in Hollywood. After Augie spoke with Phil, he called Sid Korshak, who looked after the mob’s interests in Hollywood, and told him what they needed. A wink of an eye from Korshak could make or break a starlet’s career.
As promised, Augie telephoned Phil at nine the next morning. “We’re all set, Phil. She’ll be landing at three-thirty.” “Where’s she coming from?” Phil inquired. “Hollywood, where else?” was Augie’s response.
“What does she look like?” Phil asked. “How will I know her?”
Augie began to chuckle and said reassuringly, “Don’t worry, Phil. You’ll know her when you see her.”
Phil grabbed Angelo and Tony and told them they had to go to the Kansas City airport for a “package.” They went to a bar in the airport and waited, with Tony peppering Phil about what kind of package he was expecting. Phil told him to be patient. At three-thirty Phil and the other two men headed over to the gate where the flight was scheduled to arrive. Most of the passengers alighted from the plane. Tony kept pestering Phil, who was starting to get a little worried. The furrier would be leaving the Tropicana the next day, so they had to strike that night.
Phil looked back at the Arrivals board just to make sure he had the right flight. Then he heard Tony say, “Holy shit!” Phil wheeled around and almost had a heart attack. One of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen was walking into the waiting area. Every eye in the airport turned toward her.
“Phil! Phil! Look at that! Look at that!” Tony exclaimed. “That’s our package,” Phil replied. “Don’t you wish,” Tony said.
Phil waved and the beautiful young woman smiled and walked over to him. “Are you Joey Zito?” she asked, using one of Phil’s aliases. “That’s me,” Phil responded. “Welcome to Kansas City.” Tony suddenly had trouble finding his voice and Angelo just stared. “Do you have any luggage?” Phil asked. “Do you know any ladies who travel anywhere without luggage?” she answered teasingly. Tony and Angelo almost killed each other getting her suitcases.
Phil reminisced later about her. “She was the most incredible woman I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen some lookers. She looked like Marilyn Monroe at her best, and it was amazing how everyone stopped what they were doing, to watch her walk through the airport. Not just men, either. Every woman she passed stopped and stared. She had an innocent sensuality that would’ve given a eunuch a hard-on.”
On their way from the airport to the hotel, they filled her in on some of what was going on. They gave her a picture of the furrier, which had been supplied to the Civella family by the victim’s partner. “This is the guy,” Phil told her. “You don’t have to sleep with him, just keep him occupied for an hour or so. I don’t think that’s going to be a problem for you,” he finished, laughing.
Phil dropped her off outside the hotel, after explaining how important it was that they not be seen with her. She understood and went inside to check in.
Upstairs, they met in her room. Phil told her that, when she saw her mark enter the lounge, the clock was running and she needed to keep him there for at least an hour. And when she saw Phil come back into the lounge, they’d need at least ten more minutes. Then her work would be finished.
He told her not to worry about a thing, all she had to do was play her part and they’d do the rest. He reminded her that Tony would be sitting at the bar, looking after her the whole time in case something went wrong. She asked Phil how they knew the furrier would go into the lounge. “We know more about this guy than his wife does,” Phil remarked in a tone that halted more questions about his sources.
“She was no dummy,” Phil said. “That night she was simply an actress playing a part. She knew it was an important role, at least as far as influence was concerned. She was so cool beneath that bombshell body. And, man, was she good-looking!”
Phil arrived in the lobby first. He sat in a big overstuffed chair and began to read a newspaper. Angelo arrived five minutes later, sat down, and began to peruse a magazine. Tony already had a seat at the bar, where he seemed to be watching a game show on television. At six o’clock the elevator door opened. Phil
and Angelo almost had heart failure.
“She was wearing a tight white dress with a slit up the side. There was cleavage for days, and she had a pair of legs that would’ve made Betty Grable jealous. She was absolutely breathtaking. And she was a pro. She walked by Angelo and me, and she never gave us so much as a glance. Everybody in the lobby stopped when she stepped out of that elevator. The desk man stopped registering guests. The doorman came in and stood inside the door rather than outside. The shoeshine man stopped shining his shoes. The guests, all of them, just stopped dead in their tracks. That night she could’ve stopped a watch.”
She made her way into the darkened lounge and sat in a booth near the back of the room. Twenty minutes later, Mr. Leisure Suit popped out of the elevator and headed directly for the lounge. The game clock was on.
Phil and Angelo were in the elevator before the furrier even got to the lounge. They went to Phil’s room first, and put on the uniforms of hotel maintenance workers. They loaded two dollies, which they’d borrowed from the hotel lobby, with two large black trunks each, and took the stairs down a flight to the furrier’s floor. Phil had been given the key by the Civellas.
They loaded some very expensive furs into the first two trunks and were ready to leave the room in twenty minutes. The hard part would be lugging the heavy trunks down four flights of stairs—Phil had decided not to use either elevator. If they used the service elevator, he figured, and a hotel employee got on, that person might recognize them as imposters. And two maintenance men using the guest elevator would create suspicion. So they used their muscles and took the two trunks down the back stairs and out to a waiting van, which the Civellas had also supplied.
Final Confession Page 8