From: News and Views | Crime File |
NOVEMBER 2001

Genovese Family
Keeps Its Chin Up
Gigante becomes top don
as Gotti fades

By GREG SMITH
Daily News Staff Writer

He may be known for stumbling through Greenwich Village in his pajamas, muttering loud enough to earn the nickname Oddfather.

But federal investigators say 73-year-old Vincent (Chin) Gigante has replaced ailing Gambino crime boss John Gotti, who is fighting throat cancer in a Missouri hospital, as the most powerful gangster in America.


Genovese family 'Oddfather' Vincent (Chin) Gigante with his sons Vincent (l.) and Andrew in 1992.
New evidence from a three-year FBI probe shows Gigante — serving a prison term in Fort Worth, Texas, until 2007 — is in firm control of the Genovese family, the Mafia clan dubbed "the largest and most powerful of La Cosa Nostra families" in the nation.

Investigators say, however, that though Gigante is the unchallenged boss of the Genovese family, he does not hold sway over any of the other New York mob families, which are in various states of disarray after years of successful prosecutions.

Still, hours of FBI tapes leave little question that Chin Gigante is actively engaged as head of the highly disciplined mob clan.In an Oct. 18 chat at the Manhattan Cafe on the upper East Side, for example, Genovese capo Alan (Baldie) Longo was heard openly discussing the renewed strength of the family founded in the 1950s by the late Vito Genovese.

"Don't let anyone tell you we're dead," Longo said. "We're not. Because Vito [Genovese] ain't here no more, Vincent [Gigante] is. We're here."


In his trademark wardrobe, a seemingly addled Gigante is arrested in 1993.
Evidence surfaced during an investigation by the Brooklyn U.S. Attorney's organized-crime unit that reveals what amounts to a new world order in New York's five crime families.

For years, law enforcement branded the Gambino family the most powerful in America, followed by the Genovese family. The other three groups — the Bonannos, the Colombos and the Lucheses — fell in place behind.

But an all-out assault on New York organized crime by federal, state and local law enforcement in the past decade has seriously undermined the leadership of all four clans.

The Brooklyn investigation, led by Assistant U.S. Attorney Paul Weinstein, found the Genovese and Bonanno groups are now the two most powerful families, while the Colombo family is no longer recognized by the other families because of internal strife.

Gotti's Gambino family and the Luchese group, meanwhile, have become hampered by uncertain leadership.

Gigante's lawyer, Michael Marinaccio, scoffed at the notion that the old man is making a comeback, stating that Gigante is suffering from dementia and acute heart disease in prison.


Former top don John Gotti of the Gambino family is fighting head and neck cancer in a Missouri hospital.
Throughout the law-enforcement blitz, the Genovese family has remained unusually resilient, with far fewer of its members becoming informants, and its leadership — particularly Gigante — strictly adhering to a code of discipline and secrecy.

The Genovese family is now involved in a catalog of crime: murder, extortion, loansharking, gambling, drugs, stock fraud, money-laundering, bank robberies, obstruction of justice and shaking down unions.

While other families have been kicked out of the carting industry and the Fulton Fish Market, the Genovese family maintains a stubborn presence, investigators say.

And an ongoing FBI investigation has found the Genovese family has ventured into new territory, becoming immersed in "pump and dump" stock scams and controlling the newly hot marijuana market in parts of the city.

Gigante's group has even branched out to infiltrate Local 32B-32J of the Building Services Workers Union, whose members serve apartment buildings across New York.


Informant Sammy (The Bull) Gravano helped put Gotti in prison.
The Genovese tapes provide new evidence that the FBI says proves Gigante oversees it all.

"Vincent (Chin) Gigante is the current boss, although he is incarcerated," Assistant U.S. Attorney Daniel Dorsky said during a recent court hearing, noting a family capo "speaks freely of Vincent Gigante" on tape.

The Rev. Louis Gigante, who runs anti-poverty programs in the Bronx, dismisses the idea that his 73-year-old brother is now directing the Genovese family.

Father Gigante says the FBI is misinterpreting the words heard on tape. He said, "People talk. Women talk. You don't believe everything women talk about just because they talk on the phone. It's another manipulation of words of people of assuming things."

He questions how his brother could get messages out to the Mafia when he is visited only by his immediate family, noting, "This implicates me, this implicates his wife, this implicates his children.

"Who's bringing these messages out? Don't tell me it's one of my nephews. We schooled them to be upstanding citizens. This is ridiculous."

Federal prosecutors, however, recently stated in court papers that Gigante appeared more physically and mentally alert than during his racketeering trial.


Gigante during a 1958 arrest.
At the center of the FBI probe is a Genovese associate named Michael (Cookie) Durso.

For three years, Durso, who was up for membership in the family, used a listening device hidden in his Rolex watch to record conversations with much of the Genovese hierarchy.

During the conversation at the Manhattan Cafe, in which Longo mentioned Gigante, the capo "reiterates that the Genovese family is the strongest LCN [La Cosa Nostra] family, rivaled only by 'Joe's family,' meaning the Bonanno family headed by Joseph Massino," prosecutors state in court papers.

Five days later, Gigante was mentioned again at the Campagnola Restaurant on the upper East Side, according to testimony by FBI Agent Craig Donlon.

Genovese soldier Paul Geraci told Durso the man he thought was the boss — Frank (Farby) Serpico — wasn't really the boss. As was often the case with Gigante, gangsters did not mention Gigante by name but referred to him simply by rubbing their chins. The action was caught on videotape.

"He's [Serpico's] still there, but he ain't the guy," Geraci said. "He never was the guy. This guy is the guy," he says, touching his chin to signify Gigante.


Alleged Genovese family members (from l.) Joseph Lemmo, Anthony Scafiddi, Joseph Abbate and Anthony stand trial in 1997.
As recently as March 30 at the Bronx home of soldier Pasquale (Patty) Falcetti, Durso and FBI surveillance listened as Falcetti made clear that Gigante's son, Andrew, was now speaking for the boss, according to to investigators and court documents.

Falcetti claimed Andrew Gigante had "put a beef in" to the family hierarchy regarding a dispute with a Genovese associate named George Barrone.

"Whatever the kid [Andrew] says, it comes from him [Vincent Gigante]," Falcetti said, touching his chin. "Who's going to challenge that?"

The conversations occurred three years after Gigante was convicted of racketeering and sentenced to 12 years in prison. Andrew Gigante is one of a handful of people who visit him on a regular basis, Gigante's lawyers say.

Although for years Genovese mobsters rarely mentioned Vincent Gigante, during a July 22, 1999, conversation, soldier Joseph Zito talked openly about how Gigante once asked him to kill another gangster.

Zito "described an incident that happened years ago," when Vincent Gigante wanted a veteran soldier named Rosario Gangi killed because he'd heard Gangi wanted to call a "made member" of the family to testify at a hearing involving Gangi, court papers state.

The move would have compromised Genovese rules of secrecy, and Zito claimed Gigante "wanted Ross Gangi killed." Zito told how he intervened on Gangi's behalf to explain Gangi did not intend to call "made" members and the whole matter was a misunderstanding. The plan to hit Gangi was dropped.

Zito then recalled a second incident in which there was a "big sit down" between members of the Genovese and Colombo crime families over a Colombo capo named Joe Beck, who had disobeyed mob law.

"During this meeting, a capo suggested that they punish Joe Beck by breaking him" or suspending his mob privileges.

"We don't break our capos," Gigante responded. "We kill them."

* * *

Chain of Command

Genovese Family
Membership: 300 members and associates.
Boss: Vincent (Chin) Gigante, serving 12-year sentence that ends in 2007.
Recent Developments: Ruling panel members Frank (Farby) Serpico and Alan (Baldie) Longo busted with 30 other Genovese.

Bonanno Family
Membership: 200 members and associates.
Boss: Joseph Massino, recently released from jail.
Recent Developments: Several captains pleaded guilty in stock-fraud cases.

Gambino Family
Membership: 200 members and associates.
Boss: John J. Gotti, jailed for life.
Recent Developments:Boss is dying of brain and neck cancer; son John A. (Junior) Gotti serving six years.

Luchese Family
Membership: 150 members and associates.
Boss: Acting boss Steven Crea, under indictment.
Recent Developments:Crea and top leadership, including capos Dominic Truscello and Joseph Tangorra, indicted by Manhattan District Attorney Robert Morgenthau.

Colombo Family
Membership: 150 members and associates.
Boss: Alphonse (Allie Boy) Persico. Indicted, incarcerated and awaiting trial.
Recent Developments:No longer recognized by the other families due to leadership problems.

Survivor
Reputed Bonanno leader
keeps low profile

By MICHELE McPHEE
Daily News Staff Writer

t's lunchtime at the Casablanca Restaurant in Maspeth, Queens, and reputed Bonanno crime family boss Joseph Massino occupies a table near the door, enjoying a meal of homemade linguine and sauteed roasted peppers with his pals.

After a waiter in a tuxedo serves him from a gleaming brass cart, Massino, 57, banters lightly with his sidekicks, trading jokes and picking ponies.


When not running the Bonanno crime family, Massino enjoys dining at the three-star restaurant he owns in Queens.
From the outside, the Casablanca appears to be a nondescript storefront pizzeria. But its regulars know the restaurant serves some of the best Italian cuisine in the city. The Daily News reviewed Casablanca in 1998 and gave it three stars.

Its walls are festooned with framed pictures of celebrities who have dined there — Johnny Depp, Hugh Grant, Elizabeth Hurley — alongside posters of Humphrey Bogart. There is also a life-size statue of the tough-guy film icon.

Massino is part-owner of the restaurant, and on this day he is the only New York Mafia boss free to savor the rewards of hard work, authorities say.

With the Sept. 6 arrest of acting Luchese crime boss Steven Crea in a massive construction scam roundup, four of the five organized crime leadersare behind bars.

Massino, tall and robustly built, is known as an electronics whiz with a penchant for secrecy and discretion. He lives modestly with his wife in Howard Beach, Queens, a few blocks from the home of his friend, the imprisoned-for-life Gambino crime boss John Gotti.


Former mafioso Joseph Bonanno now lives in Arizona.
"He's careful. He's a very smart guy," said one NYPD organized crime detective. "He's wise to surveillance, and he lives by the old-school rules. He believes in keeping La Cosa Nostra secret."

Another co-owner of Casablanca, who declined to be identified, characterized his partner as "just one of the owners of the restaurant who comes in for lunch once in a while."

Massino has denied any involvement in La Cosa Nostra and has accused the federal government of bias against Italian-Americans. He did not return phone calls for this story.

His principal source of legitimate income, authorities say, is King Caterers, a Farmingdale, L.I., business that provides food to street vendors.

But according to law enforcement sources, he began his underworld career as a truck hijacker and quietly rose in rank.

He became the Bonanno boss in 1993, months after he was released from federal prison, sources said, just as the crime family was near extinction.

Its members, considered mob "outlaws," did not have a seat on the Mafia's fabled Commission, the governing group that oversees the city's five crime families. An internal war left several members dead. And rampant drug dealing in the family brought intense pressure from the Drug Enforcement Administration and the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

For six years in the early '80s, FBI agent Joseph Pistone immersed himself in the workings of the Bonanno family by posing as jewel thief Donnie Brasco. During that undercover assignment, he got to know many gangsters, including Massino.

Johnny Depp, whose image now graces Massino's restaurant, played Pistone in the movie "Donnie Brasco."

Pistone's work was a factor in Massino's 1986 conviction on charges stemming from the Bonannos' control of Teamsters Local 814, the union that represents furniture movers.

During his trial, when Pistone walked past Massino on his way to the witness stand to testify against him, the adversaries eyed each other. "Hey, Donnie," Massino reportedly said. "Who'd you get to play me in the movie?"

While Massino was in prison, Manhattan prosecutors accused him and his brother-in-law Salvatore Vitale of racketeering and murder.

The two were leaders in a bloody interfamily war that erupted after the 1979 murder of Bonanno boss Carmine Galante, according to testimony. Massino was allied with the winning faction headed by Philip (Rusty) Rastelli, prosecutors said.

The losers were Alphonse (Sonny Red) Indelicato, Philip Giaccone and Dominick Trinchera, three Bonanno captains who were slain in 1981. Both Massino and Vitale were acquitted on charges of murdering the three men during their 1987 trial.

"Joey Massino was aligned with Rusty Rastelli during the Bonanno War. Rusty won, and when he died in 1991, Massino was the obvious choice for boss," said a law enforcement source.

Massino was seen as the levelheaded leader who could stem the erosion of the family power. He promptly shut the Bonanno social clubs and avoided other situations that might invite surveillance.

"He's a very low-key guy," said a law-enforcement source. "He only surrounds himself with close allies."

Though Massino's allegiance to Gotti solidified his power, law enforcement sources say the Gambino boss played no part in his neighbor's ascension to family don.


Massino's contact with the Gotti family (including John Jr, pictured above) helped make him the successful crime lord he is today.
"The Bonannos picked Massino because he was friends with Gotti and the family was obsessed with getting a seat back on the Commission," a law enforcement source said. "But like everything the Bonannos do, it backfired.

"Gotti was [angry] that he was not consulted before Massino was bumped up to boss."

Despite that initial tension, Massino's reign has been a successful one, run with tight fists and tight lips. The Bonanno family has regained its seat on the Commission and its crews have beefed up longtime interests in narcotics, unions, loansharking, gambling and Joker Poker machines, sources said.

And even as "made" members of the other four families have taken the witness stand against their bosses, not one Bonanno mobster has broken omerta — the vow of silence all gangsters take when they are inducted into the Mafia.

But high-profile drug trafficking by Bonanno crews still brings heat. Last week, two Bonanno soldiers, Fabritzio DeFrancisci, 30, and Joseph Benanti, 66, along with an associate, Tommy Reynolds, 30, pleaded guilty in federal court to murder and drug dealing conspiracies stemming from charges they ran a crack cocaine ring in South Brooklyn. In a related case, the family's elder statesman, capo Anthony Spero, 73, has been indicted with South Beach club baron Chris Paciello, a Miami celebrity and alleged mob associate who dated supermodel Niki Taylor and counts Madonna as a friend.

Spero will go on trial in February on murder and obstruction of justice charges. Paciello's trial on charges of murder, racketeering and burglary will begin Oct. 17.

Assistant U.S. Attorney Jim Walden, who is prosecuting Spero and Paciello, refused to comment on whether Massino is under investigation.

"Our policy is to not confirm or deny any ongoing investigations," Walden said.

The Bonanno organization, however, has shown remarkable resiliency and staying power, perhaps best demonstrated by the family's namesake, 95-year-old Joseph Bonanno, long retired and living in Arizona.

"When a crime boss runs a tight ship and keeps himself out of the limelight, it becomes much harder for law enforcement to penetrate and obtain damning evidence," said Prof. Robert Castelli, an organized crime expert at John Jay College of Criminal Justice.

"In the case of the Bonanno crime family, it has regrouped since the late 1970s. The boss is well insulated, his second-in-command is reputedly his brother-in-law and there are no known cooperating witnesses. It's a much tougher nut to crack."