http://articles.philly.com/2000-12-27/ne...stra-philly-mobThis Ain't No 'Godfather' Flick Over The Bulk Of The Last Century, The Philly Mob Maintained A Code Of Silence - But No More
by Kitty Caparella, Daily News Staff Writer
Posted: December 27, 2000
It was 1927, the age of bootlegging, speakeasies, rum-running and political scandals.
Radicals called for strikes and planted bombs in support of anarchists Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti, the Italian immigrants convicted of murder on flimsy evidence.
Drug dealers were arrested smuggling narcotics into Eastern State Penitentiary on Fairmount Avenue.
And in South Philadelphia, mob war was raging in the numbers rackets.
From this violent tumult emerged a 4-foot-11, 16-year-old street tough known as "Little Harry." That was the year Harry Riccobene was inducted into the Mafia.
FOR THE RECORD - CORRECTION, PUBLISHED JANUARY 3, 2000, FOLLOWS: A drawing of Salvatore Sabella that appeared in last Wednesday's Daily News did not include an artist's credit. The drawing is by Celeste Morello and is from her book, "Before Bruno, The History of the Philadelphia Mafia, Book 1."
For the rest of the century, Riccobene would have a profound influence on Philadelphia's La Cosa Nostra.
And, despite his death from cancer in state prison in June, Riccobene continues to cast a long shadow on the local mob from his grave.
Battered by arrests and defections, that mob bears little resemblance to the 13 organized crime regimes in which the diminutive Riccobene played a role for more than 70 years. No other Philadelphia mobster was that active for that long.
So impotent is the mob today that the five most recent crime bosses are in jail.
The most recent boss, Joseph "Skinny Joey" Merlino, is awaiting trial on murder charges. His predecessor, Ralph Natale, is the first mob boss in the country to turn government informant and was the star witness in the recent corruption trial that led to the conviction of Camden Mayor Milton Milan.
BY HIS OWN choice, Riccobene never rose above the rank of soldier, but did become the mob's elder statesman.
And he never ratted, not even after Assistant District Attorney Arnold Gordon put him away for life in the 1982 murder of consigliere Frank Monte.
Normally close-mouthed, Riccobene talked at length to the Daily News about his decades in organized crime - from turn-of-the century Sicilian mafiosi, through the Roaring Twenties and the Great Depression to the post-modern days of mob snitching and drug importing - before he died of cancer on June 19 in Dallas state prison.
The witty, charming and dangerous little man with the full white beard was one month shy of his 90th birthday.
"He may have looked like Santa Claus, but he was evil," said a lawman who knew him.
He was initiated into La Cosa Nostra - "This Thing of Ours" - the same way he left it, during a bloody gangland war.
After dropping out of fifth grade, Riccobene made such a name for himself in the rackets that his crime associates and not his father, a made member of the Sicilian Mafia, proposed him for membership in the mob.
"I was going on 17 when I was inducted. I was the youngest one to be inducted here, but it was not unusual in Sicily," recalled Riccobene during one of two lengthy jailhouse interviews.
Riccobene was initiated into the Mafia during an especially bloody period of the reign of boss Salvatore Sabella.
Joseph Zanghi, 19, brother of a major gangster, and his pal, Vincent "Scabby" Cocozza, were killed in a drive-by shooting at 8th and Christian streets on May 30, 1927, a holiday then known as Decoration Day.
Nearby stood the stunned would-be target of the hit, Joseph's brother, rival racketeer Anthony "Musky" Zanghi, who had been trying to shake down Sabella for a loan.
Riccobene's active life in the Mafia ended after the so-called Riccobene Wars, from May 1982 to January 1984, when bloodthirsty boss Nicodemo "Little Nicky" Scarfo wanted Riccobene and his associates killed.
Riccobene refused to share his profits from gambling and drugs with Scarfo. More important, he failed to show the mob boss proper respect.
"I didn't respect him. I didn't think he was material for that position," said Riccobene. "He was a weasel."
After learning of Scarfo's plot to kill him, Riccobene struck first. On May 13, 1982, Riccobene's crew fatally shot Scarfo's consigliere, Monte, who had been ordered to carry out the murder contract on Riccobene.
Riccobene, named as mastermind of the Monte plot by his own men and half-brother, was sentenced to life in prison.
DURING HIS 73 YEARS in the Mafia, Riccobene bootlegged whisky during Prohibition, lived under the provincial "Mustached Petes," fought in the Castellammarese Wars, knew crime bosses on the first ruling national mob "Commission," including three legendary crime bosses - Lucky Luciano, Joe Bonnano and Carlo Gambino - and did jail time with Vincent "The Chin" Gigante and John Gotti.
His regard for his own bosses in Philadelphia ran the gamut.
Salvatore Sabella wasn't too bright. John "Nozone" Avena was fair. Joseph Bruno fixed horse races. Giuseppe "Joe Ida" Ida initiated non-Sicilians. Angelo Bruno imposed too many restrictions. Bloodthirsty Scarfo was "out of sync." John Stanfa was from the "old school."
Riccobene spent his last 16 years keeping the books in a prison tailor shop.
In his last three years, every step was painful. In addition to cancer, he suffered from a bone-hardening disease called osteosclerosis, and his rib cage dropped to his hips.
Still, Riccobene found a sense of peace on the I-Block at Dallas, where it wasn't as noisy as the rest of the prison.
Inmates and jailers treated him with respect. After all, he'd survived two assassination attempts at age 71.
He admitted that he preferred life in jail to a life on the streets. He'd lived long enough to see fellow gangsters routinely break the hallowed Mafia codes he'd lived by for seven decades.
"I never felt safe until I came to jail," he said. "This is the best place, most suited for me. They don't cater to me, but they take care of me when I need it. They know I'm not a phony."
SABELLA, KNOWN as "Don Turiddu," presided over Riccobene's initiation ceremony. About a dozen mobsters attended. Despite reports to the contrary, Riccobene said Sabella, who ruled from 1918 to 1931, wasn't Philadelphia's first mob boss.
The first boss, he said, was in the late-1800s and there were others after him. He couldn't remember their names.
Here's what he said ranking mafiosi looked for in a young prospect: "Either make money for them, be a risk-taker, be pretty smart."
Riccobene's father, Mario, a stone mason, had been initiated into the Sicilian Mafia. He didn't know his son was becoming involved, Riccobene said, but he was "very proud" when he found out Little Harry had become a so-called "Man of Honor."
From the 1890s through 1920, Sicilian mafiosi were among the waves of Italian immigrants.
They "headed small families from their particular town or region. Western Sicily had their tradition and eastern Sicily had their own," recalled Riccobene. "It was very provincial."
The loose alliance of Sicilian gangsters in America wasn't unified until 1931, Riccobene said, when Lucky Luciano brought the groups together under La Cosa Nostra's umbrella.
The Sicilian Mafia "didn't recognize the American Mafia, and vice versa," he said.
"In America, when it first came in, every city had their own group. The way we had it in Philly, they had it in other big cities. We always called it 'family.' We never spoke the Italian language. We spoke the English language."
Later immigrants spoke Italian, he said.
Around the time of Riccobene's initiation, Sabella and his associates were charged with the Decoration Day murders of Zanghi and Coccoza.
Five of six men were acquitted of the charges. Three were or were going to be mob bosses or acting bosses: Sabella, John "Nozone" Avena and Antonio Dominick "Mr. Mig" Pollina.
Under Sabella, Riccobene said, there were "not too many things to do: numbers and alcohol. [Betting on] horse racing was not that popular" until the mid-1930s.
There was "nothing glamorous" about bootlegging liquor to young Riccobene.
"The cops didn't care what you did as long as you gave them something," he said. He expressed disdain for corrupt cops in what he called "The Little Mob" - a group of crooked cops inside the Police Department.
"At the time, [Max] 'Boo Boo' Hoff was the 'King of Bootleggers,' who actually brought the merchandise into the state. I dealt with anybody who had it available for sale."
"I was buying and selling booze, once it got here. I was a salesman," he said. "Nobody had an exclusive clientele. You sold it to whoever wanted it."
Riccobene stored his liquor in a little garage. Its location, even today, was "none of anybody's business," he said.
"I was considered an independent in the late '20s, before La Cosa Nostra and the new guys. I did a little bit of everything, not much of one thing. I was diversified a long time ago. You had to. There was a lot of competition.
"Everyone wanted to be a bootlegger. Everybody wanted to sell narcotics. Everybody wanted to book numbers. But not everybody was cut out for it. And it got worse and worse as time went by," he added.
The stock market crash of 1929 affected everybody.
"In them days, it was a penny business, the numbers business. Players would give you 10 numbers, at two cents each, three cents each. No big money, but at the time, it was sufficient.
"Initially, I was a banker. You had people writing numbers, as many as you can," he said. "The daily number was based on a couple things: At one time, it was based on the daily result of the Cincinnati Clearinghouse. Then, the New York Clearinghouse," which later became known as stock exchanges.
The number was based on the results of the first, second and third races at a racetrack. Now the daily number is the same as the state lottery, which pays 500-1, compared to the street's odds of 600-1.
WHEN THE Castellammarese War broke out in New York between the short-sighted and greedy "Mustached Petes," - the powerful crime boss Giuseppe "Joe the Boss" Masseria and his rival, Salvatore Maranzano - it was felt in Philadelphia.
"Sabella was from Castellammare, so was Joe Bonnano, and they joined forces against Masseria," recalled Riccobene.
"When Sabella went, he took a few men with him. I didn't want to go. I was asked, but refused. I was too young. Anybody who wanted to take sides could take sides," said Riccobene.
Mafia historian Celeste Morello, who befriended Riccobene, said he confided that he was the youngest to fight in the Castellammarese war.
"I was there, I was up," Riccobene told other mobsters in a 1977 conversation recorded by the FBI.
"In Philly, there was hardly anybody like you, then, right? That still is left," replied Joseph Bongiovanni, who worked for Riccobene's loan-shark business.
"Yeah," said Riccobene on the tape.
The war ended after Charles "Lucky" Luciano masterminded the deaths of both Masseria and Maranzano.
With the support of then-young turks, Vito Genovese, Frank Costello, Carlo Gambino and Tommy Lucchese, the profit-driven Luciano created the Commission. The national crime syndicate combined ethnic crime groups with the remnants of the old Mafia, and employed far-sighted business practices.
Finding himself on the losing side, Sabella was asked to step down in Philadelphia. Contrary to reports, Riccobene said, Sabella was never deported.
Sabella "didn't have it too much up here," said Riccobene, tapping his head. "He was not able to run or organize anything. He was too petty. He put on an act to get over. He didn't look to the future."
"[John] Avena was voted or appointed as the mob boss by the Philadelphia family, then approved by the Commission. Avena then represented Philadelphia on the Commission" as the city's first representative, Riccobene recalled.
After the war, Avena opened Mafia membership to Sicilians "from different parts of Sicily" instead of only the boss's village. Though immigrants from Italy were eligible under new mob rules, none were chosen.
Avena "got a better reception than Sabella," Riccobene said. "John was all right. . .He was fair."
Law enforcement thought otherwise, labeling Avena "South Philadelphia's Public Enemy No. 1."
Like Luciano, Avena reached out to the Jewish mob, including gambling kingpin Harry "Nig Rosen" Stromberg, said Riccobene.
During his 20-year gambling career, Avena became the biggest numbers banker in South Philadelphia. He survived three assassination attempts - wounded twice in 1926 and fired on in 1927 - during a 10-year numbers war that claimed 25 lives.
On Aug. 18, 1936, the Inquirer reported the "rata-tat-tat of a gun from a speeding sedan marked the end of an armistice in South Philadelphia's numbers racket."
Avena, 43, and his top aide in the numbers racket, Martin Feldstein, 39, were killed in the "Bloody Angle," the triangular area bounded by 7th Street and Passyunk and Washington avenues, which had been the scene of at least six other murders.
"It was the first time a mob boss was shot," Riccobene said.
The truce between Avena and his numbers partner, Pius Lanzetti, was over.
Pius was one of the six notorious Lanzetti brothers - each named after a Pope.
The Lanzettis "schemed in the murder of Avena. They carried it out and then killed the guys who killed Avena," Riccobene said. "They weren't welcome anyplace."
Pius, who ordered the killing, was gunned down on New Year's Eve in 1936.
He was found sitting at a table holding a soda, shotgunned with buckshot, said historian Morello. The body of Willie Lanzetti was found sewn inside a sack on an estate in Villanova in 1939.
Leo had been gunned down 11 years earlier in a barber shop. The other three brothers survived.
"The Lanzetti brothers always underestimated the Mafia," said Riccobene. "They thought if they killed Avena and a couple other guys, they could take over Philadelphia.. . .They could have everything."
Asked who took care of Pius and Willie, Riccobene smiled, then said, "I don't know."
In 1936, Joseph Bruno became mob boss, but "he didn't want it," said Riccobene.
That same year mob associate Moses "Moe" Annenberg, a bootlegger, gambler and publisher, bought the Philadelphia Inquirer. Both he and Bruno loved horses.
Annenberg, whose newspaper was filled with stories of official corruption and lurid details of the rackets, created an illegal wire service for bookmakers called the General News Bureau.
Bruno, who was boss from 1936 to 1946, worked the other end of horse racing.
"He was a gambler, he bought horses and raced them," recalled Riccobene. "When you're a gambler, you start to take an interest in buying a horse. Real big-time gamblers trace the line, the pedigree of horse.
"We used to go to the racetrack to fix races. [Bruno] was the originator of the whole scheme. In this one instance, we finally got seven horses, and we told six of the jockeys don't try to win. We didn't tell them who was supposed to win.
"The one we didn't talk to would automatically win. We got $200 on the winner.
"So what do you think happened? He fell off the horse. He fell off the horse, can you imagine that? That was a sure thing!"
AFTER JOSEPH Bruno, who had operated the crime family from New Brunswick, N.J., died of natural causes in 1946, Joseph "Joe Ida" Ida became Philadelphia's first non-Sicilian boss willing to induct non-Sicilians.
Ida, a Calabrian, inducted other Calabrians. A 1980 Pennsylvania Crime Commission report claimed that Ida fled to Italy after he was indicted in connection with his attendance at the infamous Apalachin, N.Y., conference of crime bosses in 1957, which was busted by the state troopers.
But Riccobene said Ida never fled to Italy.
The report said Ida designated longtime friend Antonio Dominick "Mr. Migs" Pollina as temporary boss.
Riccobene admired Pollina's character and honesty, but claimed he was never a boss.
"Migs was always a soldier, and he chose to be inactive. He had medals from Italy for valor in World War II."
According to the 1980 crime report, Pollina wanted to be named permanent boss and plotted the murder of his rival, Angelo Bruno. He assigned the murder contract to his underboss, Ignazio Denaro. But Denaro told Bruno, who appealed to the Commission.
The Commission heard both sides. The mob rulers decided to oust Pollina and make Angelo Bruno the boss of Philadelphia. Bruno declined to have Pollina murdered.
"The only way he got it was that I didn't want it," said Riccobene, who turned down the top job a couple times. "Who wants the responsibility?"
Angelo Bruno's 21-year reign, from 1959 to 1980, lasted so long because "nobody wanted it," Riccobene said.
"Under Bruno, started greed and jealousy. . . .They hit the bottom when Bruno was managing things. He wouldn't let them do a lot of things," said Riccobene, a longtime drug trafficker.
But Bruno did banish Nicodemo Scarfo - who was to become Riccobene's arch-nemesis - to Atlantic City after he killed a sailor in 1963.
Until 1981, Riccobene said, "Every time a new boss came in, I was transferred to his group."
Riccobene automatically became part of each boss's inner-circle and had his pick of soldiers from others' regimes. His role was to carry out the boss's orders - including murder.
"I never called a meeting. I didn't need any," he said. "There would be meetings the whole family would go to, such as when a new boss was made, because he didn't know everybody. There's "made" guys who they don't know, and who don't want to be known."
Because the Mafia code is an oral tradition, Riccobene's longevity and knowledge of protocol was sought out by others.
Joel M. Friedman, retired chief of the U.S. Organized Crime Strike Force, characterized a Nov. 4, 1977, tape-recorded Riccobene conversation as a "classic" in Philadelphia mob history.
For the first time, mobsters talked about the inner-workings of La Cosa Nostra in the secretly recorded FBI tape, which was later used to convict Scarfo and others.
Two future bosses, Philip "Chicken Man" Testa and Scarfo, and then-gambling czar Frank "Chickie" Narducci, asked Riccobene how consiglieres were selected.
"Don't they have to come and ask us?" asked Narducci, identified as a "capi," short for caporegime or captain.
"No," replied Riccobene. "They have a meeting among the, you know. . .You get all the heads, you know? That's acceptable. And let them vote on it."
"Yeah, you know why it's acceptable? Because all the capis are supposed to talk to their men," said Testa, who was then the mob's second-in-command.
"Right," said Riccobene.
Riccobene has boasted that he didn't "bow or kowtow" to Bruno, or any boss.
Today's mobsters, like "Skinny Joey" Merlino and his followers, he said, are "errand boys." Initiation ceremonies "became a farce."
"I never gave up anything. I didn't even have my own crew. I was not a capo. I always remained in soldier status," he said.
Until 1982, Riccobene's prestige was enough. Even though he wouldn't bow, he worked hard. But he was never asked to pay tribute to the boss.
That changed with Scarfo. And it led to the Riccobene Wars.
IN 1982, smoldering animosity exploded between Riccobene, at 71, very much the elder statesman of the mob, and Scarfo, who was 46.
Riccobene had refused to pay his respects to the hypersensitive Scarfo after "Little Nicky" took over.
What's more, he wouldn't share his gambling and drug profits, or pay him tribute.
"Harry felt Scarfo was too selfish, too vicious and too greedy to be the boss," ex-mob capo-turned-informant Thomas DelGiorno once testified.
"I didn't respect him. Not only didn't I respect him, I didn't approve of him," said Riccobene. "He killed that guy in the diner for no reason at all. He wanted his seat, then he knifed him.
The impulsive murder Scarfo had committed in 1963 was just a taste of Scarfo's uncontrolled penchant for violence.
Between May 1982 to January 1983, the Mafia body count rose by four, along with more than a half-dozen murder attempts. That was in part because Riccobene and Scarfo shared the same philosophy: Kill 'em before they kill you.
"They wanted to cut everyone away from me to have access to me alone. That's why some of those poor guys got shot and killed for nothing," said Riccobene.
"I didn't need anything from them [the Scarfo faction]. I didn't want it. I didn't like the way they were getting it," said Riccobene.
Angered by Riccobene's disrespect, Scarfo gave the Riccobene murder contract to his consigliere, Frank Monte, who called in mobster Raymond "Long John" Martorano.
In April 1982, the pair tapped Mario "Sonny" Riccobene, to set up his half-brother. But Mario told Harry of the plot.
"Mario told me that Frank Monte and Raymond Martorano had come up with a proposition to put me in a spot where they could get rid of me because they didn't want me around," Harry Riccobene later testified at his own murder trial. "Of course, I didn't believe it."
Police tipped off Riccobene's crew that the Scarfo faction had drawn up a hit list of 17 or 18 people, later reduced to seven.
Riccobene met with his own inner circle, as well as half-brother Mario, Joseph Pedulla and Victor DeLuca, who were mob associates who shared profits from numbers, sports betting, bookmaking, loan-sharking and drugs.
Their hit list numbered about a half dozen.
Monte would be the first to go.
Another ally, Vincent Isabella, took Pedulla to a deserted dump by the airport, where he practiced firing at a target 100 feet away until "all the shots came together in an area the size of a quarter."
On May 13, 1982, Pedulla hid inside a camper cover on the back of a pickup truck. When Monte arrived at a South Philadelphia gas station where he had left his white Cadillac to be washed, Pedulla fired the rifle eight times out the back window, killing Monte.
Inside an Italian restaurant across from the gas station, DeLuca and Joseph Casdia heard the shots. They waited a few minutes, then Casdia got into the pickup truck with Pedulla in the back and drove off. DeLuca followed in a car he was supposed to crash into any police car that followed.
When a caller reported Monte's death, Riccobene testified he replied: "That's a shame."
Monte, the 14th mob victim to be killed since the 1980 assassination of Bruno, was the godfather to Riccobene's nephew, Enrico, 27, who later himself would become a victim of the escalating war.
The obsessed Scarfo was enraged.
He offered $20,000 to Jimmy DiGregorio, a Pagan Motorcycle Club member who trafficked in drugs with Riccobene, to carry out the hit.
But the Pagan instead cornered the tiny Riccobene, picked him up by his lapels and demanded more than $20,000.
If Riccobene upped the ante, DeGregorio said, he would kill Riccobene's enemies.
"Nah, nah," Riccobene said he replied as he looked DiGregorio in the eye while being held in mid-air. "You go kill Longy [Martorano] and then you come back. We'll talk about it then."
The stunned Pagan put Riccobene down and left. He didn't carry out either hit. He was a government informant.
Now even angrier, Scarfo next turned to his godson, the trigger-happy Salvatore "Salvie" Testa, son of Scarfo's predecessor, Phillip "Chicken Man" Testa and the head of a mob group known as the "Young Executioners."
Known for his leadership, fearlessness and ruthlessness, Testa took on the deadly mission.
On June 8, 1982, Testa and mobster Wayne Grande spotted Riccobene in a telephone booth talking on the phone with his 22-year-old girlfriend.
Grande, in shorts, jogged up to the telephone booth and shot Riccobene five times.
Riccobene, tough as a bull, came charging out of the booth, wrestled the gun out of the hand of his would-be assassin, whom he described as "a crummy-looking, dirty-looking" stranger, before collapsing. Grande fled.
"I put Grande's photo on his [hospital] bed so when he awoke, he would see it," recalled Frank Friel, a former mob expert with the police department. "I told him how brave he was to withstand the shooting, to find the gun and still not use it."
Friel recalled Riccobene's response: "He was done with it. It was empty." The gun had no bullets left.
Pedulla, DeLuca and others armed themselves and guarded Riccobene's hospital room.
"We took notes of where the [Scarfo mob] hung out, who their girlfriends were, what cars they drove, their habits," testified DeLuca later. "And if the opportunity came along and it was a safe spot, we were supposed to kill them."
They saw an opportunity on July 31, 1982.
Heading north in the Italian Market, DeLuca was at the wheel with Pedulla at his side with a sawed-off shotgun.
At 9th and Christian, they spotted Salvatore Testa sitting on a stool outside a restaurant eating clams. Pedulla jumped out of the car, pumped three shots into Testa, then hopped in the car and sped off.
What the pair didn't notice was the police car right behind them. After a high-speed chase, they were arrested. In record time, they were released from police custody, causing a public furor. Then, they disappeared.
Riccobene later testified he contacted the fugitives through Pedulla's wife and helped negotiate their return and surrender.
"I told them they were crazy to run, that they would run like wild animals the rest of their lives," he testified.
Testa survived the murder attempt, but was slain in 1984 at the age of 29.
THE SECOND assassination attempt on Riccobene came on Aug. 21, 1982. Gunmen shot up Riccobene's car as he sat waiting for his girlfriend, but missed him. Riccobene then drove off.
Officer Rosario Mergliano, who was driving a cab part time, saw the attempted hit.
"I drove after the car because I didn't believe it," and stopped Riccobene, said Mergliano. Although bloodied by glass fragments, Riccobene said he was OK and resumed driving.
Friel located him at home and asked him about the shooting. Riccobene said he had cut his head coming in a door.
What about his bullet-riddled car?
"Probably neighborhood vandals," Riccobene replied.
In the following year, Scarfo's gunmen went after Riccobene's half-brother, Mario.
They tried to kill him at a jewelry store, funeral home, his own home and even his girlfriend's.
They even enlisted Trenton mobster and drug dealer Albert "Reds" Pontani in an unsuccessful attempt to kill him.
Scarfo, who was by then imprisoned in Texas on a weapons charge, called his nephew, underboss Phil "Crazy Phil" Leonetti. The mob boss was very upset.
"Nicky is getting upset because nobody is getting killed - seven, eight months or a year and nobody's killed," mobster-turned-informant Nicholas "Nicky Crow" Caramandi later testified in court in one of the trials that later put Scarfo away for life.
In the continuing fallout from the Riccobene-Scarfo feud, mob underboss Salvatore "Chuckie" Merlino, the father of now-imprisoned mob boss "Skinny Joey" Merlino, ordered the death of former Riccobene ally, Pasquale "Pat the Cat" Spirito, for botching the plot to kill the Riccobenes. Spirito was killed in April 1983.
That same year, City Council aide Robert Rego offered to arrange for the killing of Thomas "Tommy Spats" Auferio, a Riccobene ally, Leonetti himself would later testify.
A short time later, Auferio's car was shot up. Rego said the shooters were trying to lure Auferio outside, but the shots scared him off. Auferio died of natural causes in 1989.
On Oct. 14, 1983, Scarfo gunmen Eugene "Gino" Milano and Charles "Charley White" Iannece fired several shots at Frank Martines, a loan-shark and bookmaker in the Riccobene organization.
Officer Raymond Hatfield found Martines bleeding heavily. Martines, who later became acting underboss in the Stanfa mob, said, "I know you from the neighborhood. I can't give you any information. . .I have nothing to say to you."
"We just couldn't understand it because Gino fired five times at point blank range and he wasn't dead." Caramandi later testified.
Riccobene ally Salvatore "Sammy" Tamburrino was killed inside his family's Southwest Philadelphia variety store on Nov. 3, 1983 - "only because he was one of my friends," said Riccobene.
After stalking Harry's half-brother, Robert Riccobene, every day between August and December 1983, Scarfo gunman Francis "Faffy" Iannarella shotgunned the 43-year-old to death as he tried to scramble over his mother's backyard fence on Dec. 6, 1983.
Robert's mother, Jennie, tried to grab the shotgun, but Iannarella butted her in the face with it.
"His mother started screaming and it was a mess," Iannece told the others.
Eight days later, Testa and his pals, who had been tormenting and stalking Mario Riccobene's son, Enrico, 27, tapped menacingly on the window of his store on Jeweler's Row.
Enrico, who was not involved in the mob, had been told he would be their next victim. He walked inside his vault and shot himself to death.
OUTGUNNED and outnumbered by the Scarfo mob, Riccobene's remaining allies figured they'd either be dead or doing life in jail, if they didn't turn state's evidence.
In the end, they turned on him.
Frank Monte hitman Joseph Pedulla had known Riccobene for 26 years and was treated like a son. But he decided to testify against him. So did Riccobene's half-brother, Mario, who cried on the witness stand.
Longtime ally Joseph Casdia, whom Riccobene had ordered to be killed and buried with lime because he couldn't trust him, stood by him.
When Riccobene went on trial for the Monte murder in 1984, the 74-year-old became the first Philadelphia mobster in memory to testify in his own defense.
He denied he headed any mob faction. He was a retiree "with a lot of time on my hands."
"There was no plot to kill Harry Riccobene that I know of," he testified.
On Nov. 18, 1984, a jury convicted Riccobene and Casdia of first-degree murder and Vincent Isabella of third-degree murder.
Despite FBI warnings, in 1992, half-brother Mario Riccobene returned to Philadelphia after testifying against his brother and at one other trial.
On Jan. 28, 1993, he was gunned down inside his Ford Taurus in a parking lot outside the Brooklawn diner.
"I felt bad about it," said Harry Riccobene. "I don't know what he did for that to happen to him. It wasn't on account of me. It wasn't anything that there was consent from me."
Mario's murder remains unsolved, while Victor DeLuca, Riccobene's one-time ally, had a tracheotomy to remove his cancerous voice box.
Riccobene sent him a message:
"You should have lost it a long time ago."
