Judge Rejects Mafia Mistrial

Friends of ours: Lawrence Ricci

A judge has rejected the mistrial bid of two union bigwigs accused of having Mafia ties, despite the disappearance of their co-defendant, a reputed mobster.

Brooklyn federal Judge Leo Glasser said jurors in the trial of Harold Daggett
and Arthur Coffey had not seen media speculation that Lawrence Ricci is the
victim of a gangland hit.

Ricci, accused of guiding International Longshoreman's Association contracts
to a mobbed-up pharmaceutical firm, has not been in court for more than a
week, and his lawyer has told Glasser the absence was not voluntary. Could Ricci be Sleeping with the fishes?

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Sleeping with the Fishes?

Friends of ours: Lawrence Ricci, Tino Fiumara, Genovese Crime Family

A reputed mobster facing a five-year prison term in a waterfront corruption case disappeared in the middle of his trial, prompting speculation that he had instead received a Mafia-imposed death penalty.

"I do not consider my client's absence to be a voluntary one," defense attorney Martin Schmukler said in federal court Wednesday after Lawrence Ricci failed to show for the second day in a row.

Ricci serves as an acting capo under feared New Jersey docks boss Tino Fiumara. Some two decades ago, Ricci and Fiumara were convicted together of extortion. Authorities suspect that family higher ups in the Genovese family found some fault with Ricci’s performance of his duties and have dispatched him – permanently.

Ricci, a 60-year-old alleged capo in the Genovese crime family, went on trial Sept. 20 in Brooklyn. He was free on $500,000 bail. Ricci, who lists his occupation as a dairy salesman, was charged with two officials of the International Longshoreman's Association with extortion and fraud in connection with mob domination of the New York waterfront.

"We are looking for him," said FBI spokesman Matt Bertrand. "We still haven't arrested him, or have him in our sights yet."

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Rosemont Mayor again denies Mob ties

Friends of mine: Donald Stephens

Rosemont Mayor Donald Stephens, who for years wanted a casino in his town, said Wednesday he now hates the idea but is stuck because he poured $50 million in village funds into the project. During a sometimes combative interview with the Tribune editorial board, Stephens portrayed himself as caught in the middle of a legal and political tug-of-war over the plans to build a casino in the northwest suburb. He also railed against accusations by state and federal authorities--highlighted in regulatory hearings--that he and the village have links to organized crime.

"I wish I never heard of this damn casino. As a matter of fact, I don't think much of casinos anyway. They're just boxes with slot machines in them," said Stephens, who in 1999 played a critical role in persuading state lawmakers to clear the way for a Rosemont casino. "Rosemont does not need a casino. That I can tell you. Rosemont can live without a casino."

Stephens blasted comments made last year by Illinois Atty. Gen. Lisa Madigan, who said he has ties to organized crime. He acknowledged that in the days after Madigan made the public comments he complained to Madigan's father, Illinois House Speaker Michael Madigan, a Chicago Democrat. "I said, `What's wrong with your daughter? I mean she knows that I'm not associated with [the mob].' He said, `Don, I can't do anything with her,'" Stephens said. "I told him, `Michael, if I'm an associate of crime syndicate hoodlums, so are you because you associate with me.' And he says, `You know what? You're right.' He's been a guest in my home."

A spokesman for Michael Madigan declined to comment Wednesday. (Michael Madigan, a Notre Dame graduate, just held his annual fundraiser at the Sabre Room which is always well attended by many of my former neighbors.)

Lisa Madigan's spokeswoman, Melissa Merz, said the attorney general was unaware of the conversation between the mayor and her father. She said the attorney general "doesn't clear her statements with anyone," including her father.

Stephens' comments come just weeks before former federal appellate judge Abner Mikva is expected to decide whether to revoke the state riverboat license for the Emerald Casino, once proposed for Rosemont, amid allegations that Emerald officials lied to state regulators and some casino investors had ties to the mob.

During the administrative hearing before Mikva, attorneys for the Illinois Gaming Board presented evidence they said raised questions about Stephens and organized crime. The head of the FBI's organized crime division in Chicago testified that a federal informant told them Stephens met with five high-ranking organized crime figures to discuss what control the mob would have over contracts at the casino.

Stephens has vehemently denied the allegations and reiterated those denials Wednesday. "If I've done something, pillory me for it. But don't just say it's `alleged that' or whatever," he said. "The biggest problem that I've got is the allegations, and that's what they are, and the innuendoes and the accusations of mob influence, mob involvement in Rosemont, when there's no truth to it at all."

Should Mikva recommend revoking the license--and the Gaming Board accept that recommendation--Emerald would lose the only asset that it can sell. Emerald would be able to appeal the decision in court.

When asked if he would oppose those efforts, Stephens said he had little choice in the matter. He said the village paid nearly $50 million to build a parking garage for the Emerald Casino and until Emerald pays that money back he must support a casino project for the suburb. "I'd love to get rid of this thing. Can I? No. What can I do ... I've got $50 million of the people of Rosemont's money involved here," he said.

Stephens said he made a mistake by not requiring safeguards in Rosemont's deal with Emerald that would have protected the village's investment.

Gaming Board officials have maintained that Rosemont built the parking deck at its own financial risk because it was done before the board voted on the Emerald project. The board eventually rejected the Emerald plan in 2001, triggering the case now before Mikva.

Emerald was eventually forced into bankruptcy court, where plans were made last year to sell the license to Isle of Capri Casinos, which also planned to build in Rosemont. But the attorney general opposed the sale, partly because of concerns about mob ties.

Stephens said he didn't ask Speaker Madigan to have the attorney general back off. He was simply inquiring why she was making her allegations. "Frankly, I was astounded. I mean this man's a friend of mine. I know his daughter. Wouldn't you say, What's going on?" he said.

Stephens has become increasingly frustrated by the casino saga. And while he long pushed governors and lawmakers to let him have a casino in Rosemont, he said has grown to dislike modern casinos for their strong reliance on computerized video poker or slot machines.

His opinion has changed, in part, because of a newfound friendship with the state's biggest opponent of gambling, Tom Grey, executive director of the National Coalition Against Gambling Expansion.

"You know what these things are? They're vacuum cleaners ... you take the vacuum cleaner and stick the business end in my pocket, you put the switch on and when there's nothing left to suck out of my pocket you turn the switch off," Stephens said. "The house can't lose. That's a casino? No."

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Where are the real tough wise guys of the past?

Friends of ours: John "Junior" Gotti, Gambino Crime Family, Lucchese Crime Famly, Arnold "Zeke" Squitieri, Phil "Skinny Phil" Loscalzo

First, Junior Gotti pens a children's book in prison. Then the mob scion shows up at Sunday Mass. Now, federal prosecutors are claiming the Gambinos and the Lucheses - among the most bloodthirsty crime families New York City has ever known - are just a bunch of pansies. What's the Mafia come to?

Consider the trial going on in courtroom 26A of Manhattan Federal Court. There a group of Albanian-led mobsters are accused of crimes committed as they wrested control of Astoria's gambling clubs - and the protection money they generated - from the Luchese family. Federal prosecutors say gang leader Alex Rudaj, 38, had Gottiesque visions of heading a sixth crime family. They claim on one occasion, he and some pals even pushed their way into Rao's, the exclusive East Harlem eatery, demanded John Gotti's old table - and got it.

"The Gambino crime family simply could not stand in the way of the Rudaj organization, and the Rudaj organization took great pride in that," prosecutor Benjamin Gruenstein said. He told a jury that when the Gambinos tried to head off the Albanians in a showdown at a New Jersey gas station, they were sent away cowering. One of Rudaj's henchmen pulled a gun and pointed it at a gas pump, threatening to blow them all away. The leader of the Gambinos, Arnold (Zeke) Squitieri, backed off. After that, the Rudaj organization moved into Astoria, branching out from their base in the Bronx and Westchester, where they got their start forcing their "Joker Poker" machines on bar owners.

Attorneys for Rudaj and his five co-defendants have mocked the prosecution's theory during the opening weeks of an expected three-month trial. Rudaj's lawyer, James Kousouros, says his client was a legitimate businessman, owner of Morris Park Games, which sells foosball games, pool tables and gambling machines to bars and clubs throughout the city. "The Lucheses and the Gambinos are comprised of hundreds of members who shoot and kill anybody that stands before them and takes a nickel from them," Kousouros told jurors. "The reality is that these six gentleman did not displace two of the most powerful crime families in the world."

Among those on trial is Rudaj's alleged chief enforcer, Nikola Dedaj, gang members Ljusa (Louie) Nuculovic, Prenka (Frankie) Ivezaj and Nardino Colotti, a protégé of the late Gambino family soldier Phil (Skinny Phil) Loscalzo. All are charged with racketeering, gambling, extortion and loansharking.

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Stool Pigeon?

Friends of ours: Frank Calabrese Sr., James Marcello, Sam Carlisi, Joseph Ferriola, Joey Aiuppa, Nick Calabrese, John Fecarotta, Tony Spilotro, Michael Spilotro, Billy Dauber, Ronald Jarrett

Reputed mob killer Frank Calabrese Sr. was taking a walk with his son in the prison yard at the federal detention center in Milan, Mich., uttering words that should never have left his lips. During that walk and others, Calabrese Sr. spoke of mob slayings -- ones the FBI says he was involved in, according to sources familiar with the matter. He discussed who was a made members of the Outfit and who wasn't. And he described his own initiation rites into the Chicago mob, where he was a reputed "made" man.

Under Outfit rules, talking about any one of those topics would be enough to get a mobster killed. But what was worse for Calabrese Sr. was that his statements were being secretly tape-recorded, by own his son, Frank Jr., who was in prison with him at the time, several years ago.

During those strolls around the prison yard, Calabrese Sr. spilled decades of mob secrets, details he should have never told anyone, even his own flesh and blood. Now those indiscretions are coming back to haunt him. Calabrese Sr.'s secretly recorded statements helped federal prosecutors build their case against him and other alleged mobsters, including the reputed head of the Chicago Outfit, James Marcello. "Wings" Jim Marcello started in the Chicago Syndicate as the driver of "Black Sam" Carlisi who was the powerful underboss under Joe Ferriola. Carlisi himself started as the driver for Joey Aiuppa when Aiuppa was boss.

The tape recordings are vital to the case and expected to be played at the trial next year of Calabrese Sr., Marcello and others, and should be a highlight. The trial will mark the culmination of the most significant prosecution federal authorities have brought against the Chicago Outfit, charging top leaders with 18 murders. Frank Calabrese Sr. alone has been accused of taking part in 13 of the slayings.

Calabrese Sr.'s attorney, Joseph Lopez, downplayed the importance of the tape-recorded conversations on Friday and questioned how the feds could properly interpret them. "My client doesn't know anything about any murders," Lopez said. The feds "gave the son the script, and he followed it. It's all very good theater."

Lopez contended that no fresh details about the slayings pop up on the tapes, and some conversations show "a father puffing up his chest for his son." "They are talking about facts that people 'in the know' would know," Lopez said. "When you hear the tapes in court, everyone will be able to draw different conclusions as to what was said."

Frank Calabrese's son, Frank Jr., put his life on the line every time he secretly tape-recorded his father, who was always cagey, always suspicious. The men were in prison together on a loan-sharking case the feds had brought against Calabrese Sr. and his crew. Calabrese Sr., who ran the crew, got nearly 10 years in prison. His son, Frank Jr., who had much less involvement in the matter, got more than 4 years.

Frank Calabrese Sr. was known for his brutality and ruthlessness, both on the streets and at home, ruling his family with fierce intimidation. To this day, Calabrese Sr. still tries to reach out and rattle family members, whether by getting messages passed out to relatives from the Metropolitan Correctional Center in Chicago, where he is being held, or having rats put on the porch of another family member, sources said.

Frank Calabrese Sr. was extremely leery of even his closest associates, much less family, making it that much more of a challenge for the younger Calabrese to get him talking. Frank Calabrese Jr. not only had to get his father chatting about matters that his father would be extremely reluctant to talk about. The son also had to get his father to discuss those matters clearly, with enough detail, to be useful to federal prosecutors.

If Calabrese Sr. or any other prisoner found out the younger Calabrese was wearing a listening device in the prison yard, his life would have been in peril. But somehow, Frank Calabrese Jr. exceeded all expectations.

Despite all the danger to Calabrese Jr., he received no major benefits from the FBI. His main motivation was trying to ensure his father would stay behind bars for the rest of his life, law enforcement sources said. Calabrese Jr. was released from prison in 2000.

One recording Calabrese Jr. made even helped persuade his uncle Nick to cooperate with the feds. Frank Calabrese Sr. and his brother Nick Calabrese had a long history together and were tight. They would often do mob killings together, authorities said. But what was once a close partnership is now a blood feud, with Nick Calabrese confessing to 15 mob hits and helping the FBI. Frank Calabrese Sr.'s own words helped turn his brother Nick into one of the FBI's most valuable informants.

The key conversation came one day when Frank Calabrese Sr. and Frank Jr. were in prison and discussing Nick Calabrese and whether he was cooperating with the feds. Nick Calabrese was not cooperating at the time, but relations were tense between the two brothers. Frank Calabrese Sr. was refusing to have his underlings send money to help support his brother's family, according to court testimony. And Nick Calabrese was still sore over how Frank Calabrese Sr. had treated his own sons, Frank Jr. and Kurt, in the loan-sharking case, effectively hanging them out to dry.

Frank Calabrese Sr. assured his son on the recording that he had gotten word out of the prison that if Nick Calabrese was helping investigators, then he would have no objection to his brother being killed. Frank Calabrese Sr. said that this was the life he and his brother had chosen. When the feds played that tape for Nick Calabrese, he began cooperating. But that wasn't the only factor contributing to Nick Calabrese's change of heart.

On another recording with his son, Frank Calabrese Sr. scoffed about a mob hit that his brother Nick nearly botched and talked about it in detail. Calabrese Sr. told his son how Nick Calabrese had been assigned to kill fellow mob hit man John Fecarotta in 1986.

Fecarotta had messed up an attempt to kill Tony Spilotro, the Chicago Outfit's man in Las Vegas, and mob bosses decided that Fecarotta had to go.

According to court records and law enforcement sources, Fecarotta was set up on the ruse that he and other mobsters were going to drop off a bomb. Fecarotta apparently never figured out that the device they were carrying was fake, made up of flares taped together to look like dynamite. Nick Calabrese and Fecarotta were heading to the job site in a stolen Buick. As they pulled up near a bingo hall on West Belmont, Calabrese pulled his gun to kill Fecarotta. But Fecarotta fought him off, struggling with Calabrese until the gun went off, wounding Calabrese in the forearm.

Fecarotta ran for his life, and Nick Calabrese bolted after him, knowing if Fecarotta escaped, it would mean Nick Calabrese's own death sentence from the mob.

Nick Calabrese shot and killed Fecarotta, but Calabrese made a critical error. He left behind a bloody glove, which investigators recovered and kept. Years later, DNA tests tied Nick Calabrese to the glove and the murder.

On the secret tape recordings, Frank Calabrese Sr. spoke of other murders involving him and his brother. In one instance, Frank Calabrese Sr. bragged how he had orchestrated a shotgun slaying in Cicero of two men, Richard Ortiz and Arthur Morawski. They were sitting in a car outside Ortiz's bar on Cermak when eight shots were pumped into the 1983 Mercury, killing both men. Ortiz was killed over drugs, law enforcement sources say. Ortiz's family has denied Ortiz had anything to do with drug dealing. Morawski was killed by accident.

Calabrese Sr. also discussed his role in the 1980 slayings of mob hit man William Dauber and his wife, Charlotte, in Will County. Calabrese Sr. implicated his righthand man, the late Ronald Jarrett, as being involved, too. Jarrett was slain in a mob hit in 1999. I was living near Jarrett at this time. Calabrese Sr. even talked about mob hits he had no involvement in -- the murders, for instance, of Tony and Michael Spilotro.

Martin Scorsese's celebrated Las Vegas gangster movie, "Casino," had the men being beaten to death with baseball bats in an Indiana cornfield. But the movie got it wrong. Tony Spilotro, the Chicago Outfit's man in Las Vegas, had been lured back to the Chicago area. Spilotro, a made man, was told he was going to be promoted and that his brother was going to be made into the Outfit.

James Marcello, now the reputed head of the Chicago mob, allegedly drove the Spilotros to a Bensenville-area home and their deaths, according to court testimony. Although, it was not like this in the movie, several sources within the FBI have already suggest this from their CI's.
On tape, in the prison-yard conversations with his son, Frank Calabrese Sr. names the mobsters who were there to kill the Spilotro brothers, including his brother, Nick. As the men surrounded Tony Spilotro, he begged for time to say a prayer, a novena, sources said. His killers declined and proceeded with their work. I find it dubious that Tony "the "Ant" would have begged anybody for anything, especially to say a novena.

Thanks to Steve Warmbir Staff Reporter Sun-Times

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