The Mafia Encyclopedia (52 page)

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Authors: Carl Sifakis

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BOOK: The Mafia Encyclopedia
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Page 142
not be carried inside, bearing that classic, touching message, "From His Pals."
The funeral procession was a mile long with 26 cars and trucks loaded with flowers, including rather garish arrangements sent by Torrio, Capone, and the Genna brothers, perhaps fittingly since all of them were involved in the execution of O'Banion. Ten thousand people followed the hearse, jamming every trolley car to the area of the Mount Carmel cemetery. At the gravesite another 5,000 to 10,000 spectators waited. An honest judge of the era, some say a rarity for the age, John H. Lyle, called the funeral "one of the most nauseating things I've ever seen happen in Chicago." Back in New York Frankie Yale was more impressed. In fact, he told friends he certainly hoped that when his time came, he would get a more impressive funeral than O'Banion had enjoyed.
Yale went to his reward in a hail of lead in 1928, and the boys tried to do right by him. Fifty thousand dollars was lavished on his send-off. The coffin was nickel and silver, and flower stores in Brooklyn were denuded to the tune of 38 carloads of flowers. Flags flew at halfstaff. About 250 autos in a funeral cortege followed the hearse through the streets of Brooklyn to Frankie's resting place in Holy Cross Cemetery. Among the 10,000 mourners were two widows, each insisting she was the genuine Mrs. Yale. It was left to a rather prideful
New York Daily News
to claim that Yale's funeral "was a better one than that given Dion O'Banion by Chicago racketeers in 1924."
In the 1920s and 1930s big gangster funerals were considered only proper and fitting. As one mobster informed the press, "That's what buddies are for."
Before O'Banion's death the biggest funeral held by the North Side gang involved Nails Morton who had a 20-car flower procession. O'Banion had a 26-car procession. When O'Banion's successor, Hymie Weiss, was assassinated, he had only 18 cars with flowers, a fact that upset his widow. Patiently, Bugs Moran of the North Siders had to explain that, since the deaths of Morton and O'Banion some 30 others in the gang had died, which played hob with the number of donors. Weiss's successor, Schemer Drucci, had a touch less impressive a funeral than Weiss's, but his wife was satisfied; he was buried under a blanket of 3,500 blooms. She said: "A cop bumped him off like a dog, but we gave him a king's funeral."
By the 1940s more simple funerals became the style. When Al Capone was laid to rest in 1947, Chicago boss Tony Accardo strictly limited mob attendance, deciding who was "too hot" and might cause a disruption. As Accardo said, "We gotta draw the line someplace. If we let'em, everybody in Chicago will crowd into the cemetery. Al had no enemies." (Presumably Tough Tony could not resist that last humorous comment; after all, it did have an element of truth. Accardo knew Capone's enemies were mostly dead by then, very few having departed this world from natural causes.)
Still later, mob big shots were no longer honor bound to attend funerals at all because of the disruptions that might occur. However, when longtime crime boss Tommy Lucchese died in 1967 and his family let it be known they "understood" if no one attended, many top mafiosi did attend, including Carlo Gambino, Aniello Dellacroce, and Joe and Vincent Rao, insisting they had to come in person to show the great esteem they had for Lucchese. Perhaps what they respected most about him was that for the last 44 years he had never been convicted of a thing.
When Frank Costello passed away in 1973, his widow was firm. She wanted none of his unsavory friends to attend the funeral. Her wishes were respected.
When Gambino godfather Paul Castellano was murdered in December 1985, he was buried in a secret rite after John Cardinal O'Connor barred a funeral mass for him" after a great deal of prayer," according to a spokesman for the Archdiocese of New York. Castellano suffered the same fate as Carmine Galante and Albert Anastasia, who were also denied funeral masses. Faring better were Crazy Joey Gallo, Carlo Gambino and Joe Colombo. Canon law 1184 stipulates that funeral masses will be denied to "manifest sinners" who have not shown some sign of repentance before death. In many cases, mobsters get the benefit of a doubt, especially if they die in bed. One Catholic expert explained, "The assumption is that they had time to reflect and to repent in some fashion before death. But the way he [Castellano] went out, it's very difficult to see how anybody could say that he had time to reflect and repent.''
Cardinal O'Connor in his official statement said that both church law and possible negative reaction by the faithful guided his decision to forbid a funeral mass for Castellano. In 1979 Terence Cardinal Cooke denied the mass for Carmine Galante, also a rubout victim, but as an "act of charity" he permitted a priest to recite prayers at a service in a funeral home. O'Connor did the same for Castellano, and added in condolence, "We extend deepest sympathy to the family."
The O'Connor decision did not meet with total approval within the church. The Reverend Louis Gigante, pastor of St. Athanasius in the Bronx and brother of two reputed mobsters, criticized it. He said he would have celebrated a funeral mass for Castellano. "If he was not a Catholic in life, we should have told him, 'You're no good,'" Gigante said. "Don't say it now, when the family is going to get hurt."
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G
Galante, Carmine (19101979): Would-be "boss of bosses"
Everyone was afraid of him whether he was on the street or behind bars. By the late 1970s, Carmine Galante, the boss of the Bonanno family even from prison, was dreaded by the Mafia underworld. He would be getting out shortly and there would be all-out war. Galante was, after Carlo Gambino's death in 1976, considered to be the toughest mobster among the New York crime families. No one boss was considered mean, cunning or ruthless enough to stand up to the Cigar, as he was called because of the ever-present cigar clenched between his teeth.
No one ever came up with an accurate estimate of how many murders Galante committed or how many more he later ordered in a life of crime that dated back to when he was 11 years old. Galante was the button man in a number of murders ordered by Vito Genovese, including the "clipping" of radical journalist Carlo Tresca in New York in 1943. At the time, Genovese was in Italy actively currying favor with Benito Mussolini, who wanted Tresca's antifascist activities stopped.
Galante was already in the Joe Bonanno family and would in time become Bonanno's driver and eventually his underboss. As such he was a willing confederate in Bonanno's grand plan to expand the crime family's interest south to Florida and the Caribbean and north into Canada. Galante won a reputation with other mobsters as being "as greedy as Joe Bananas."
It was a relief to most other mobs, if not to Bonanno, when Galante was sent to prison for 20 years in the early 1960s for a narcotics violation. In 1964 Bonanno further enraged the other mobs by plotting to eliminate most of the governing leadership of the rival families, which led to the famous Banana War that ended in the ruination of Bonanno's plans and his hopes to install his son as his successor as head of the crime family. Meanwhile, Galante plotted his strategy behind bars. He regarded no one in the Bonanno family as his equal and looked forward to accomplishing what his old boss had failed to do. Mainly, as he told others in the federal penitentiary at Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, he would "make Carlo Gambino shit in the middle of Times Square."
Galante got out on parole in 1974 after doing 12 years. Suddenly he said nothing. In time of war Galante believed one should not talk but rather kill, kill, kill. Yet he had to move slowly because the ailing but shrewd Gambino was ready for his forays. Then in 1978 Galante was grabbed by federal agents again and returned to prison for violating parole by associating with known criminalsother Mafia figures.
The government tried to keep him behind bars, claiming a contract had been issued against Galante. Using lawyer Roy Cohn, who labeled the story a trick by the government, Galante won his release.
Over the next several months at least eight Genovese family gangsters were cut down by Galante gunmen in a war for control of a multimillion-dollar drug operation. With Gambino dead, Galante leaned on the other crime families to fall in behind himor else. The word he sent out was, "Who among you is going to stand up to me?"
The fact was there was no one. There was, however, according to later reports via the underworld grapevine, a meeting in Boca Raton, Florida, to decide what was to be done about the Cigar. From there messengers were sent out to mob leaders asking approval for a contract
Page 144
Carmine Galante, a power in the Bonanno crime Family, tried to gain control of the New York Mafia
until "the Cigar problem," as other mafiosi called him, died in a restaurant assassination, cigar still in mouth.
on Galante. Among the big shots in on the original planning were Jerry Catena, Santo Trafficante, Frank Tieri and Paul Castellano. Phil Rastelli, then in jail, was consulted as was even the semi-retired Joe Bonanno who it was felt might retain some paternal feeling for his former close associate. Bonanno was said to approve.
On July 12, 1979, Galante made a "spur of the moment" decision to drop into Joe and Mary's Restaurant in the Bushwick section of Brooklyn. The owner, Joseph Turano, Galante's cousin, was leaving on a vacation trip to Italy soon, so it was an educated guess that Galante would drop in some time.
Galante did not trust many men but he trusted those with him that day. It was a mistake. One left the restaurant early, complaining of not feeling well. A couple of others made phone calls during the meal.
Just as Galante finished the main course in the restaurant's rear outdoor area and stuck a cigar in his mouth, three masked men suddenly came through the indoor section into the courtyard. "Get him, Sal!" one of the masked men yelled. One of the executioners stepped forward and cut loose with both barrels of a shotgun. Galante died with his cigar still in his mouth.
The Cigar problem had been solved.
See also:
Genovese, Vito; Tresca, Carlo
.
Gallo, Crazy Joe 19291972): Brooklyn Mafia rebel
Crazy Joey Gallo like Joe Colombo was one of the most maligned Mafia leaders of recent years. Many rival Mafia men considered him "flaky" and hard to deal witha reputation that Gallo himself nurtured. First and foremost a shakedown artist, Gallo figured a harassed victim had to be more impressed, and frightened, by a man with the reputation of being a touch mad.
Like Meyer Lansky in the 1930s, Crazy Joe in the 1960s recognized changes in the underworld, realized
Page 145
that as the ghetto composition altered that portion of organized crime that was ghetto-oriented had to change as well. Gallo understood that more and more "street action" would be taken over by blacks because of sheer mathematics. He also understood that the mob men who first figured this out and acted on it would grow in power compared to those old-line Italian and Jewish gangsters who continued to sneer about "niggers." Above all, Crazy Joe realized nothing in crime is carved in stone. Situations and power structures change. Years before, he had questioned the stranglehold the older underworld elements had on various activities. "Who gave Louisiana to Frank Costello?" he once demanded in a conversation taped by law enforcement officials.
While in prison for extortion in the 1960s, Crazy Joe befriended black criminals. He sought to break down convict color lines by having a black barber cut his hair; he became friends with Leroy "Nicky" Barnes and tutored him on taking over control of the drug racket in New York's Harlem and elsewhere. He sent released black prisoners to work in crime operations controlled by his family.
Crazy Joe's first arrest occurred at age 17, and in his criminal babyhood, he was charged with burglary, assault and kidnapping. Within the Brooklyn Mafia, he gained a reputation as an effective enforcer and moved up rapidly. When the plot on the life of Albert Anastasia was worked out in 1957, Carlo Gambino gave the assignment to crime family boss Joe Profaci, who, in turn, passed it on to Gallo and his brothers Larry and Albert. Some theories say that Crazy Joe himself was the chief gunner in the rubout, but others hold he merely planned the job and assigned the actual shooting to others. Some recent informer information credits Carmine "the Snake" Persico as being the gunman.
Crazy Joey Gallo (in cuffs) was maligned as an underworld flake but actually was one of
the more Forward-looking mobsters in recent decades.
Page 146
Later Gallo went to war with the Profacis because he felt the Gallos had not gotten their fair share of the rackets in Brooklyn. The conflict took more than a dozen lives. After Profaci died of natural causes in 1962, and Joe Colombo Sr. became head of the Profaci family, the war continued. When Colombo was shot and "vegetabled," to use Gallo's quaint description, the murderer turned out to be a black manJerome A. Johnson. Gallo was instantly hauled in for questioning because of his known ability to recruit black troops when he needed them. Nothing, however, could tie him to the crime, and he was released.
Meanwhile, almost magically, a "new" Gallo developed. He had been released from prison in 1971. There he had not been the typical Mafia prisoner, and not simply because of his relationships with blacks. He also read the two newspapers he was allowed a day from front to back. And he had books sent in several times a week. They were not simple tomes, the lightest reading being Hemingway. Gallo got so he could fluently discourse on Camus, Flaubert, Kafka, Balzac, Sartre and Celine. He had taken up painting in Greenhaven prison and won from the administration an extra-bright bulb in his cell so that he could master his palette better. Today Gallo originals still hang in the homes of administrators and guards at Greenhaven.
When he got out Gallo was soon moving in different circles. A movie made from Jimmy Breslin's novel
The Gang That Couldn't Shoot Straight
, in which Gallo was portrayed in a comic light, annoyed him somewhat, but he invited the actor who played him, Jerry Orbach, and his wife, Marta, to dinner. The Orbachs were surprised and impressed by his knowledge of literary matters. There was talk of Marta doing a book with him on his prison experiences.
And Gallo moved regularly in theater circles. He became quite a unique celebrity, a sort of "house mobster" in the homes of various show business people.
In theory, Gallo still made his headquarters in his old mob stomping ground of President Street in Brooklyn. Actually, he lived in a lavish apartment on 12th Street in Greenwich Village, near many of his new-found friends. His Colombo foes were unaware of this.
On April 7, 1972, Gallo was in the Copacabana night club celebrating his 43rd birthday at a party that included as guests the Orbachs, comedian David Steinberg and his date, and columnist Earl Wilson and his secretary. About 4 A.M. the party broke up and Gallo, his bodyguard "Pete the Greek" Diapoulas, and four female friends and relatives adjourned to the Chinatown-Little Italy area in search of food. They ended up in Umberto's Clam House where they sat at a table, both Gallo and his bodyguard with their backs to the door.
Gallo probably felt secure; there is a Mafia code that bars any rubouts in New York's Little Italy. However, in Crazy Joe's case, an exception was made. A man walked in with a .38-caliber pistol in his hand. Women screamed and customers fell to the floor as the gunman opened up on Gallo and his bodyguard. When the shooting started, Gallo deserted the table in a headlong rush along the bar for the front door. That move may have saved the lives of others at the table. The gunman kept firing at Gallo, who staggered to the street a few feet from his Cadillac before he collapsed, dying.
His sister was to scream Crazy Joe Gallo's epitaph: "He was a good man, a kind man. He changed his image; that's why they did this to him!"
See also: Gang That Couldn't Shoot Straight, The;
Profaci, Joe
.
Gambino, Carlo (19021976): Crime family leader
After Lucky Luciano left the American crime scenefirst by his imprisonment and later by his deportation to Italyonly one mob leader exhibited the cunning and brains to become what may be described as the de facto "boss of bosses" in the Mafia. That man was not Vito Genovese, Joe Bonanno or Carmine Galanteall of whom undoubtedly pictured themselves as worthy of such a role. Rather it was the retiring Carlo Gambino.
Gambino was a study in contrasts. Short and bulbnosed, he was considered a coward by many in the underworld. Joe Bonanno called him "a squirrel of a man, a servile and cringing individual. When Anastasia was alive, Albert used to use him as his gopher, to go on errands for him. I once saw Albert get so angry at Carlo for bungling a simple assignment that Albert raised his hand and almost slapped him.... Another man would not have tolerated such public humiliation. Carlo responded with a fawning grin."
Gambino was a man who preferred being misunderstood. He enjoyed playing the humble corner-fruit-market shopper on expeditions to the old neighborhood (from a fashionable Long Island retreat), much as Mario Puzo's
Godfather
who was modeled after Gambino. He always appeared ready to turn the other cheek. "Gambino was like the hog snake, which rolls over and plays dead until trouble passes," said Albert Seedman, chief of detectives of the New York Police Department. But within the closed circles of the mob, Gambino was the firm traditionalist, demanding every sign of respect due a godfather. He even exercised the secret fine points of honor among mafiosi. When Gambino shook hands with a person, he turned his palm under the other's, indicating he was merely going through a formality. If however he accepted the man, he would shake hands by putting his own palm on top.

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