Dixie,
Thanks for the info on Doyle.
Hulking and corrupt Chicago cop Anthony "Twan" Doyle, messenger boy for the Outfit's murderous Chinatown Crew, sat stroking his throat during his federal sentencing hearing Thursday.
He used the fingers of his big left hand gently on his own neck, as if he were petting a sleeping cat with a bunch of bananas.
After listening to the lawyers, fingernails skimming his chin, Twan stood and told the judge he was guilty of "bad judgment." He received 12 years for helping the mob.
Doyle was muscle for the Chinatown loan sharks, and I couldn't help but picture those big mitts on some bust-out sports gambler's neck, a bartender, maybe a trader, the guy blubbering, watery-eyed and agreeable after Twan was done.
Gone were his fitted suits and the black shoe-polish hair. Twan was in federal orange, his white hair slicked. Federal prosecutor Marcus Funk was saying terrible things that had been borne out in testimony during the historic Family Secrets trial:
That Anthony "Twan" Doyle became a Chicago cop, and while working in the police evidence section, he was willing to help destroy crucial DNA murder evidence. And that if this evidence was lost, it would have effectively killed the case that solved 18 mob homicides and sent two Outfit bosses and a hit man to prison.
Then there was that business about Doyle agreeing that an electric cattle prod would be just the thing to use on Outfit hit man turned federal witness Nicholas Calabrese.
"He betrayed everything he pretended to stand for," Funk told U.S. District Judge James Zagel. "He betrayed his oath as a law-enforcement officer. He betrayed the public trust. Mr. Doyle is a disgrace."
But Twan hasn't betrayed his longtime close friend and patron, reputed overall mob street boss Frank "Toots" Caruso.
For all his bad deeds, Twan actually did perform one great public service to the taxpayers of Illinois, our state of corruption, and to Chicago, the political city where corruption is boss. He performed this service on the witness stand during the trial.
That's when he offered up the now-classic Chicago word -- chumbolone.
"And now there's a word made popular in the press, in a well-read column," said Twan's attorney, Ralph Meczyk, a loyal reader of mine. "The word is chumbolone, and that word means fool. He wasn't a chumbolone. But he was a chum."
Twan has his Outfit bosses. But the rest of us are bossed by Illinois politicians. And we put up with the never-ending corruption, our taxes increasing, our property values shrinking, the bosses enriching friends and relatives with our cash.
Clearly, we taxpayers must be a bunch of chumbolones. We keep paying and paying.
But where does Twan, the Outfit's cop, fit in this state of corruption?
Chicago politicians have danced with the Outfit since Paul "The Waiter" Ricca came from Sicily and let Al Capone get all the publicity. Even today, people close to Mayor Richard Daley have Outfit connections.
Daley's friend and mayoral fashion consultant, waste-hauler Fred Bruno Barbara, was mentioned in testimony during Family Secrets as a former driver for mobster Angelo LaPietra. Daley's other Bridgeport trucking boss friend, Mike Tadin, had Outfit killer Ronnie Jarrett on his payroll, until Jarrett was gunned down in Bridgeport, a murder mentioned repeatedly during the trial.
Mayoral political brain Tim Degnan works on development deals with Bridgeport developer Tommy DiPiazza, who has done real estate deals with the Outfit's reputed top bookie, Raymond John Tominello, known from Chinatown to Rosemont as "Rayjo."
The Illinois Republicans aren't much better. Actually, they're worse because they won't provide a serious alternative. The GOP establishment talks reform, but this week they've been busy in Springfield stopping rank-and-file Republicans from voting to select their own party leaders.
The nominal head of their party is Andrew McKenna, but his dad is a solid Daley guy. The big boss is indicted Republican insider William Cellini, a partner in many multimillion-dollar city and state development deals with Daley's close friend and favorite developer, Michael Marchese.
"Mr. Doyle really doesn't like it when you write the chumbolone columns," Meczyk told me after the hearing. "He hates it."
Well, tell him we'll discuss it when he gets out of prison, one chumbolone to another.
jskass@tribune.com
http://articles.chicagotribune.com/2009-...holas-calabrese
