Volz on "The Sopranos"

Friends of ours: Soprano Crime Family, Sam "The Plumber" DeCavalcante

OK, I was the only person in town who missed the opening of the new, and last, season of "The Sopranos."

I love the show but I don't have HBO.

I have been watching re-runs every Wednesday at 9 on A&E.

So, do me a favor. Honor the mob's code of silence. Don't tell me how it all ends. I will find out whether Tony goes out with a bang or a whimper a couple of years from now on A&E.

Surely, though, "The Sopranos" is the greatest show on the tube since the early days when classics like "Playhouse 90" used to run live.

I particularly like Tony and his crew because they are from my home state, New Jersey. I almost tear up when I see those opening credits, Tony tooling out of the Lincoln Tunnel and around that highway ramp, past the Weehawken town hall (my first beat as a reporter), on out to his home in the Caldwells.

New Jersey was a Mafia-dependent state. Our economy would have tanked without the mobsters. They made our pizzas, ran our four-star restaurants, built our highways, kept our politicians in pocket money and operated gambling before casinos became legal.

The Mafia was a full-service provider. And an equal opportunity employer who hired black hitmen once in a while.

If you lived in Jersey, you either had a relative in the mob or knew somebody who did. It was just a way of life. But you might ask: "Hey are "The Sopranos" for real? Did mobsters really do those terrible things?"

The answer is: "Yes."

Sure "The Sopranos" are a caricature. No self-respecting mobster would go to a shrink, for example, like Tony does. But mobsters actually talked, in real life, like they were characters in a Soprano episode. I wrote a book, "The Mafia Talks," on the real New Jersey Mafia, the DeCavalcante family back in the 1960s and read hundreds of pages of wiretap transcripts provided by the FBI.

The boss, the late Sam "The Plumber" DeCavalcante, worried about the safety of a couple of hitmen he was sending out to kill someone. "Now be careful," he said. And an unrepentant young kid named Itchie, about to be gunned down, philosophized, "If you gotta do it, you gotta do it."

The transcript was replete with tales of rubouts, arson for the insurance money and bragging about who had the most powerful crime family.

One thing "The Sopranos" show does not do is glorify these thugs. They were murderous with absolutely no moral compass.

They were not men of honor, despite all of their mouthings about having a code to live by. Their code was greed and power and violence. There were no Boy Scouts in that group, no role models. For a year, I covered the Mafia full-time.

I must say one thing in the mob's defense. Its behavior towards reporters was impeccable. Nobody called up and threatened me despite the hundreds of stories I did chronicling their crimes. Nobody sued for libel, although one mobster wanted me to testify as a character witness. He definitely was a character but I turned down his request.

No Mafioso banned me from his restaurant like a Frederick politician threatened to do. And although a number of local pols are constantly moaning and threatening to have me fired for what I write in Frederick, no mobster tried that in New Jersey.

Mobsters realized that no publicity is the best publicity.

Of course, they didn't have to run for political office. They bought, or rented, the best politicians available. In New Jersey, there was an endless supply.

Thanks to Joe Volz

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U.S. Marshal Coerced to Reveal Leaks Regarding Mob Informant?

Friends of ours: Nick Calabrese, John "No Nose" DiFronzo, Joey "The Clown" Lombardo
Friends of mine: John Ambrose

A deputy marshal accused of leaking sensitive information about a valuable mob informant is claiming that Chicago's U.S. attorney and FBI chief coerced statements from him.

John Ambrose is asking that a judge toss out statements he made last September to U.S. Attorney Patrick Fitzgerald and Chicago's FBI Special Agent in Charge Robert Grant. Ambrose claims he was pressured into talking and was never read his rights.

"I felt extreme pressure because of . . . the stature of the men who were confronting me and the intimidating nature of the confrontation," Ambrose wrote in a court-filed affidavit. "The pressure was so extreme that my body was shaking and my mind was racing."

Ambrose, 38, was charged in January with theft of information after the government said he leaked confidential material about protected mob witness Nick Calabrese to "Individual A." Calabrese will be a top government witness in this June's Operation Family Secrets mob trial. Ambrose watched Calabrese in a brief stint with witness protection. The feds say the information Ambrose leaked about Calabrese made its way to the mob.

Last September, Ambrose said he was told to come to the FBI to talk about white supremacists and fugitives. Once there, Grant and Fitzgerald allegedly accused him of compromising the government and pushed him to talk.

At one point, Ambrose claims Fitzgerald referenced his father, Thomas, who was convicted in the Marquette 10 cop corruption case. "I told Mr. Fitzgerald that they took a cheap shot bringing my father into this," Ambrose wrote.

Ambrose said Grant told him to "think of your family. Think of your job. You don't want to go to prison."

He alleged Fitzgerald told him: "You've got two choices, either fill in the blanks and cooperate, or possibly face charges and lose your job." Ambrose claims he talked because he felt he "had no choice."

The government has claimed that Ambrose gave conflicting statements. They say in one he admitted giving sensitive information to a third party, who knew reputed mobster John "No Nose" DiFronzo. Ambrose allegedly said he hoped DiFronzo's "good will" would help him capture onetime mob fugitive Joey "The Clown" Lombardo. In another interview, Ambrose allegedly denied intending to pass information to DiFronzo or mob members.

Spokesmen for the FBI and U.S. attorney's office declined to comment. Prosecutors are expected to respond in future court filings.

Thanks to Natasha Korecki

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Role Flip-Flop: Feds Serve as Loan Sharks for Lombardo

Friends of ours: Joseph "Joey The Clown" Lombardo

In a better late than never move, federal authorities are moving to collect nearly $500,000 in fines and judgments -- more than 20 years old -- against top Chicago mobster Joseph "Joey The Clown" Lombardo.

Lombardo's attorney, Rick Halprin, is crying foul -- over the timing of the request just as Lombardo is to go on trial, and at the interest rate the feds have charged on one fine -- 18 percent per year.

"Apparently, this is a federally approved involuntary juice loan," Halprin wrote in response to the feds' request.

With such a high interest rate, Lombardo "would have been much better off dealing with his co-defendants," Halprin cracked. Lombardo is charged with several other top mobsters in one of the most important mob trials in Chicago history.

The 18 percent per year was the interest rate allowed to be charged by law from the 1986 case. Lombardo paid $250 on an original judgment of $143,409.58 before the interest started accumulating.

The U.S. attorney's office had no comment on the timing of the motion. It comes about a year after a federal judge appointed Halprin to defend Lombardo at taxpayer expense. Lombardo said he didn't have the money to pay a lawyer, but the judge said the government could examine Lombardo's finances to see if he really did.

Halprin balks at the timing of the request, noting that the fines date from the 1980s and it comes as he is preparing Lombardo's defense in a complex case starting June 5. He also contends that Lombardo may no longer owe the money, in one instance possibly because of a settlement Lombardo made with the government in a civil case.

Thanks to Steve Warmbir

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Smokin' Aces

Mob boss Primo Sparazza has taken out a hefty contract on Buddy "Aces" Israel--a sleazy magician who has agreed to turn state's evidence against the Vegas mob. The FBI, sensing a chance to use this small-time con to bring down big-target Sparazza, places Aces into protective custody-under the supervision of two agents dispatched to Aces' Lake Tahoe hideout. When word of the price on Aces' head spreads into the community of ex-cons and cons-to-be, it entices bounty hunters, thugs-for-hire, deadly vixens and double-crossing mobsters to join in the hunt. With all eyes on Tahoe, this rogues' gallery collides in a comic race to hit the jackpot and rub out Aces.

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John Gotti: How the FBI Made the Charges Stick

Friends of ours: John "Teflon Don" Gotti, Gambino Crime Family, Paul Castellano, Aniello Dellacroce, Thomas Bilotti, Salvatore "Sammy the Bull" Gravano

He was slippery, yes, but even the “Teflon Don” couldn’t escape justice forever.

Despite the future nickname, John Gotti—a violent, ruthless mobster who’d grown up on the streets of New York—had been in and out of prison several times in his early career. In 1968, for example, we arrested him for his role in a plot to steal thousands of dollars worth of merchandise. Gotti was sent to prison, but was released in 1972.

And quickly made more trouble. Within two years, we’d arrested him again for murder. Same story: he went to prison and was out in a few years. Soon after, he became a “made man” for the Gambino family, one of the five most powerful syndicates in the Big Apple. Gambling, loansharking, and narcotics trafficking were his stocks in trade.

The heat was on. By the early 80s, using Title III wiretaps, mob informants, and undercover agents, we were beginning to get clear insights into the Gambino family’s hierarchy and activities (and into the other families as well) and were building strong cases against them as criminal enterprises. A break against Gotti came in late 1985, when mob violence spilled out on to the streets of Manhattan.

The scene of the crime? Sparks’ Steak House, a popular hangout for major criminals. On the evening of December 16, 1985, 70-year-old-mafioso Paul Castellano—the apparent successor of recently deceased Gambino boss Aniello Dellacroce—was gunned down along with his number two in command, Thomas Bilotti, in front of the restaurant. Gotti, who’d been watching from a car at a safe distance, had one of his men drive him by the scene to make sure his deadly orders had been carried out. [Thanks to several readers who pointed out that Dellacroce was actually not the boss. It was best put by pointing out that Dellacroce was the underboss, & had been under Carlo Gambino. Castellano had been the boss since 1976 (when Gambino died). In 1976, there was fear Dellacroce, as underboss, would resist Gambino's choice of Castellano as boss, since Dellacroce was above Castellano in the family. However, after being given almost complete autonomy over several crews, Dellacroce acquiesced to Castellano's appointment as boss. Murder Machine (Capeci & Mustain) has more details of all this.]

Top hood. Having eliminated the competition, Gotti took over as head of the Gambino family. With his expensive suits, lavish parties, and illegal dealings, he quickly became something of a media celebrity, and the press dubbed him “The Dapper Don.” Following a string of highly-publicized acquittals—helped in large part by witness intimidation and jury tampering—Gotti also earned the “Teflon Don” nickname.

Our New York agents and their colleagues in the New York Police Department, though, refused to give up. With extensive court-authorized electronic surveillance, diligent detective work, and the eventual cooperation of Gotti’s henchman—“Sammy the Bull” Gravano—the Bureau and the NYPD built a strong case against him.

The end was near. In December 1990, our agents and NYPD detectives arrested Gotti, and he was charged with multiple counts of racketeering, extortion, jury tampering, and other crimes. This time, the judge ordered that the jurors remain anonymous, identified only by number, so no one could pressure them. And the case was airtight.

The combination worked. On April 2, 1992, 15 years ago Monday, Gotti was convicted on 13 counts, including for ordering the murders of Castellano and Bilotti. The head of our New York office famously remarked, “The don is covered with Velcro, and every charge stuck.”

Indeed. Gotti had evaded the law for the last time. He died in prison in June 2002.

Thanks to the FBI

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