From Sunday's NY Daily News:

Mob's day for kissing, not killing

The Associated Press

Each and every Mother's Day until he landed behind bars, Jimmy (The Gent) Burke performed a sacrosanct ritual.

Burke, the mastermind behind the Lufthansa heist immortalized in "Goodfellas," dropped a few C-notes on dozens of red roses from a Rockaway Blvd. florist. He then toured the homes of his jailed Luchese crime family pals, giving their moms a bouquet and a kiss.

He never missed a year, or a mom.

Burke's gesture was no surprise to his fellow hoodlums: Mother's Day was the most important Sunday on the organized crime calendar, when homicide took a holiday and racketeering gave way to reminiscing - often over a plate of mom's pasta.

"These guys, they do have a love for their mothers," said Joe Pistone, the FBI undercover agent who spent six Mother's Days inside the Bonanno family as jewel thief Donnie Brasco. "They thought nothing of killing. But the respect for their mothers? It was amazing."

So amazing, Pistone recalled, that Bonanno member Benjamin (Lefty Guns) Ruggiero once told him that the Mafia - like a suburban Jersey mall shuttered by blue laws - closed for business when Mother's Day arrived each May. No vendettas or broken bones. Just gift baskets and boxes of candy.

"Absolutely," said mob informant Henry Hill, who described his old friend Burke's annual rite. "It's Mother's Day, you know?"

Hill, speaking from his current home somewhere on the West Coast, recalled that Burke attached particular importance to Mother's Day because he was abandoned by his own parents at age 2. Hill also recalled how his hot-tempered pal wasn't so dewy-eyed one day later.

"He'd kiss all the mothers on Sunday," Hill said. "And then the next day, he'd kill their husbands."


"For me, there's only my wife..."

"Sure I cook with wine - sometimes I even add it to the food!"

"When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where madness lies?"

"It was a grass harp... And we listened."

"Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?"

"No. Saints and poets, maybe... they do some."