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S a t u r d a y , J u l y 1 2 , 2 0 1 4
Ed Scarpo at 12:20 AM
Revised: Does It Matter Who's Boss in Philly?
George Borgesi, 50, is trying to take the big seat, a source told Cosa Nostra News, but he is facing pressure from allies of Joseph "Skinny Joey" Merlino.
Borgesi ain't no Joe Ligambi would be an understatement; the two (Uncle Joe really is Borgesi's uncle) don't like each other. Skinny Joey doesn't like Borgesi, either.
And as the troubled, fracture Philly mob prepares to evolve (likely not for the better), other ethnic crime groups, including one considered a threat to national security, are vying for power.
"Georgie Boy" has nevertheless been trying to assert himself -- and one person telling him to stop is Skinny Joey, through his viceroys on the street: Stevie Mazzone and John "Johnny Chang" Ciancaglini, both of whom are from the tough South Philadelphia faction.
Borgesi, Merlino, Mazzone and Ciancaglini were all convicted of racketeering in 2001. They all recently got out, as well, Borgesi last because of the Ligambi trials.
Merlino, 51, has been living in Florida since his release from prison three years ago and insists he has no desire to return to South Philadelphia.
Mazzone and Ciancaglini, are back in the old neighborhood. Law enforcement and underworld sources allege Ciancaglini controls mob gambling and loan-sharking in Delaware County, an area where Borgesi once held sway.
Apparently, Borgesi has been acting like the boss, and he may well be a boss --but not anywhere near Delaware County. In fact, Borgesi was told in no uncertain terms to stay out of Delaware County.
In the Delaware area, the Mafia once influenced at least four labor unions and ran the city’s largest illegal gambling operations; it also was the "bank" for smaller gambling syndicates from the black, Greek and Irish communities and for numerous gambling operators throughout the area, but that was during the golden years of the Angelo Bruno era. As profitable as the areas is for the mob, it's certainly not worth as much as it once was.
It seems a question worth asking is how much of a Mafia is there in Philly these days anyway, if they're fighting over a single piece of turf. It is difficult to resist comparing what the Philly mob has today versus in those years when Angelo Bruno was boss.
A July 2001 story from Philadelphia City Paper titled "Not For Nuthin'" noted that Merlino's Mafia is nowhere near what it had been thirty years ago:
Consider that when Philadelphia mob boss Angelo Bruno was gunned down in 1980, his criminal empire was vast. [Aside from operations in the Delaware Valley, the Bruno family had much more going on.] Two outlaw motorcycle gangs were subservient to the Mafia. The Philadelphia mob had pieces of restaurants, casinos, banks and companies in New England; Las Vegas; Florida; the Poconos; the Philly suburbs of Pennsylvania, New Jersey and northern Delaware; Newark; New York; and overseas, in London and in the Caribbean.
Angelo Bruno didn’t allow his men to deal drugs, but his connections to the Gambino crime family and the Sicilian Mafia enabled him to "tax" millions of dollars worth of the profits from narcotics moved by the Sicilian mob and its network of American distributors. In the local underworld, rival gangs and criminals sought out Bruno or his men as mediators, business partners and protectors. South Philadelphia was one of the safest areas in the city — there were no street crimes to speak of because petty criminals feared the wise guys who ran their neighborhoods.
And Angelo Bruno was friends with mob bosses across the country, allowing him to work with other crime families when it suited him. Angelo Bruno had a piece of everything —illegal or legitimate. Through his union connections, Bruno and his mob had access to politicians and even some judges. And Bruno kept a low profile.
Merlino’s so-called Mafia allegedly extorted some small-time crooks, dealt in stolen goods, ran a moderately sized gambling syndicate and some video poker machines and may have been involved in two or three mid-level cocaine deals in Boston. Yet the U.S. government seemed to spare no expense in surveilling, wiretapping and infiltrating the Philadelphia Mafia. Their argument was that the mob in Philly may have been weak, but they had to knock it out completely. But does the trial of these reputed organized crime figures mean organized crime has come to a halt? ...Does organized crime have much to do with Italian-Americans from the narrow streets of South Philadelphia anymore?"
According to FBI and DEA reports international Dominican drug syndicates were operating in the area back in 2001, "so powerful they represent a threat to national security." Dominican drug money from Philly was used to influence two presidential elections in the Dominican Republic, these reports warned, adding that alleged Dominican drug traffickers and money launderers contributed money to the Democratic Party and to presidential candidates here in the U.S.
In the mid-1990s, the FBI discovered that an international company in Bucks County was actually a front for the Russian Mafia. In 2001, law enforcement sources claimed Russian and Eastern European underworld gangs were flourishing in the Delaware Valley.
Canalichio was picked up on tape complaining about a South Philadelphia lowlife who was showing up at an after-hours club that Canalichio and mobster Marty Angelina owned.
Canalichio called the guy “a fuckin’ junkie,” which may have been true. But it says a lot about the character and mentality of local mobsters when a guy like Canalichio, who has two prior convictions for dealing cocaine, has the balls to complain about a junkie.
Confidential informants told the FBI that the Russian Mafia had purchased dozens of million-dollar homes in Bucks County and in central New Jersey for use as safe houses in case some of their corrupt politicos back on Russia needed to flee in a hurry.
From South Philadelphia to South Jersey Chinese, Korean and Vietnamese street gangs were running wild.
African-American crime families have flourished in Philadelphia for generations, largely ignored by the police and the media. These groups got their start running numbers, then amassed enough money to finance major drug deals.
"While the trial of Merlino and his associates is almost over, it appears that organized crime in Philadelphia, is not," City Paper reported back then.
And Ligambi can retire, but he'll still be a target. Why? Thank Anthony Nicodemo, the wheelman involved in what is considered to be one of the dumbest mob hits ever committed; it was done in broad daylight no less.
The City Paper, earlier this year, also noted the case of Damion Canalichio, who was convicted of racketeering conspiracy in the first Ligambi trial. which ended last February...
Canalichio was picked up on tape complaining about a South Philadelphia lowlife who was showing up at an after-hours club that Canalichio and mobster Marty Angelina owned.
Canalichio called the guy “a fuckin’ junkie,” which may have been true. But it says a lot about the character and mentality of local mobsters when a guy like Canalichio, who has two prior convictions for dealing cocaine, has the balls to complain about a junkie.
Nicodemo and Canalichio, both in their 40s, are the next generation of the South Philadelphia mob. In many ways they epitomize what has happened to a once secret and supposedly honorable society.
In another time and place, legendary Philadelphia mob boss Angelo Bruno could have been the CEO of a company, the president of a bank, a titan of industry. But as an Italian immigrant, certain doors were closed to him. He chose organized crime as a way out and rose to the top of his field. That’s not to justify or excuse what he did, but merely to offer an explanation. Bruno’s murder in March 1980 sent the Philadelphia mob into a tailspin from which it has never recovered. Society was changing. So was life in the Italian-American community. And so was the mob.
Omerta, the code of silence, is a thing of the past. Starting with Nick Caramandi and Tommy DelGiorno in the late 1980s through mob boss Ralph Natale and burly mob capo Ron Previte at the turn of the century, the Philadelphia crime family has had more members per capita who have become cooperating witnesses than any other Cosa Nostra family in America.
Add to the mix sophisticated investigative techniques, ever-present electronic surveillance and a multi-pronged RICO law — that allows the feds to prosecute members for their roles in a criminal enterprise rather than for their participation in individual crimes — and you have an idea how the Justice Department has taken the family apart. In many ways, the local mob has been one of the most dysfunctional Mafia families in America.
Call them the Simpsons of the underworld.
So, is it any wonder that Ligambi, who has spent more than 12 years of his adult life behind bars, has had enough? He did 10 years for the murder of Frank “Frankie Flowers” D’Alfonso before the conviction was overturned in 1997. After his indictment in May 2011 on racketeering-conspiracy, gambling and loan-sharking charges, Ligambi was held without bail for more than two years while awaiting trial.
While portrayed in some circles as a thuggish hit man who happened to be in the right place at the right time when he became boss 14 years ago, reality suggests otherwise. Ligambi had a relatively peaceful and, one would assume, lucrative run. He may be smart enough now to just walk away...
As for the situation now, it seems volatile, somewhat.
Borgesi "pretty much put himself in that position when his uncle said he was retiring and going to Florida. Everybody is just waiting for the shoe to drop and see what's left."
"Nobody knows who to trust or who will step up when the dust clears. Scarfo Senior's guys are out but staying under the radar. It's gonna be interesting who steps to the plate."
In January 26, 2014, after 13 years in prison, Borgesi, the Philadelphia mob's former consigliere, walked away from the James A. Byrne federal courthouse holding hands with a woman he married while behind bars.
A jury had acquitted "Georgie Boy" on one count of racketeering conspiracy and said it was hopelessly deadlocked on three of four counts facing his uncle and codefendant, Ligambi. The jury cleared Ligambi of one witness-intimidation count and he was later let go as well when prosecutors decided not to put the boss of the Philly mob on trial for a third time.
Ligambi wasted no time in announcing his plans to retire from the mob, as we noted, in order to "summer in Longport and winter in Florida."
Among whatever other rivalries within the Philly mob family, the basic stage includes two generations historically at odds with each other, the old Scarfo gang and the Merlino young turks.
The ability to hold the two groups together was said to be largely due to the finesse of "Uncle Joe," who is credited for keeping the peace.
But with or without him, shifts in power are inevitable as the family's composition changes as some members return to the street, and others head off to prison.
