A reputed low-level gangster on trial for killing a high-level mobster in a Bronx street brawl is expected to take the witness stand Monday.
Frank Santoro, 59, is on trial for the July 11, 2002, murder of Thomas Pennini, who authorities said was acting as a good Samaritan trying to break up a street fight involving three women - including Santoro's girlfriend.
Bronx Assistant District Attorney Dan McCarthy said Santoro was a man who settled grudges with a bad temper and gun. Santoro's lawyer says his client shot in self-defense because he thought Pennini had a gun.
Santoro's jury trial is being presided over by state Supreme Court Justice David Stadtmauer.
Pennini was gunned down outside a doctor's office in Pelham Bay after he tried to stop a fight that a woman and her daughter were having with Santoro's girlfriend, authorities said.
In the midst of the battle, the girlfriend called Santoro, known as a neighborhood bookmaker, loanshark and leg breaker, on her cell phone.
"Santoro walked up to [Pennini] and pistol-whipped him across the face with that .45-caliber, semiautomatic pistol so hard that bystanders on the street could hear it," said McCarthy during opening statements.
However, according to McCarthy, Pennini "didn't go down, he tried to grab for the gun."
He said Santoro shot Pennini in the stomach and the bullet went through his abdomen and hit every major blood vessel. McCarthy said Santoro "left Pennini dying on a sidewalk."
Authorities said the 6-foot, 280-pound Santoro jumped back into his Chevy Blazer and fled. He was captured nearly two weeks later after a tip from a Daily News reader.
Santoro's lawyer Jack Litman said there is no debate that Santoro shot Pennini, but the shooting was self-defense. He said his client shot "Pennini once in the abdomen" because he thought the shiny blade Pennini had in his hand was a knife. "But it turned out to be a pair of scissors," said Litman. "He acted instinctively to save his own life. Frank Santoro, before July 11, 2002, had never seen Thomas Pennini. "Never met him, never talked to him and didn't know what he looked like."
Authorities described Pennini, 54, a local businessman, as a high-level independent mobster who worked for the Luchese, Genovese, Bonanno and Gambino crime families. He was particularly close to the Gotti family after having served an eight-year prison term for heroin trafficking a decade ago.
Litman said Santoro called 911 when he found out that the women had gotten into an altercation. He said the shooting was a justifiable and noncriminal killing.
If convicted, Santoro faces 25 years to life in prison.
Thanks to Chrisena Coleman
Monday, February 04, 2008
Al Capone's Last Getaway
Al ''Scarface'' Capone beat the rap in Miami's Courtroom 6-1, but within a year he would be locked up for good.
The name Alphonse Capone appeared as a defendant on the courtroom's docket in early July 1930.
The charge: Not murder, but perjury -- one count.
Historical photographs show a dandy Capone arriving at the Dade County Courthouse, flanked by police. Capone didn't have to travel far to get to court. At the time, he had a winter mansion on Miami Beach's Palm Island, just off the MacArthur Causeway.
Capone's legal problems here stemmed from efforts by local lawmen to force him to skedaddle back to Chicago.
In their efforts to make Public Enemy No. 1 feel unwelcomed, Miami police and Dade County sheriffs hauled Capone to jail three times in a matter of months -- all for minor charges.
The final time stuck. Prosecutors said Capone perjured himself in a civil lawsuit against Public Safety Director S. D. McCreary over his arrests. Capone had sworn that when arrested on May 3, 1930, McCreary denied him the use of a telephone to call his attorney and threatened his relatives, saying he would arrest them on sight.
All a big lie, prosecutors said. The two-day trial began on July 10, 1930. Six wide-eyed jurors were picked to decide the fate of America's biggest crime boss. But things ended. When the prosecution rested, Capone's lawyers moved for a directed verdict of acquittal, claiming the state failed to prove its case.
Circuit Judge E.C. Collins agreed with Capone's lawyers and found the beefy mobster not guilty. Five years later, Collins would resign after being tried on corruption charges.
However, a year after his victory in Courtroom 6-1, Capone was convicted on federal charges of income tax evasion and sent to the clink for 11 years.
His days as a mob boss were over.
In 1939, Capone was released after serving most of his prison time in Alcatraz. By then, he was suffering with late-stage syphilis. He returned to his Palm Island home where he lived until his death on Jan. 25, 1947 at age 48.
Thanks to Luisa Yanez
The name Alphonse Capone appeared as a defendant on the courtroom's docket in early July 1930.
The charge: Not murder, but perjury -- one count.
Historical photographs show a dandy Capone arriving at the Dade County Courthouse, flanked by police. Capone didn't have to travel far to get to court. At the time, he had a winter mansion on Miami Beach's Palm Island, just off the MacArthur Causeway.
Capone's legal problems here stemmed from efforts by local lawmen to force him to skedaddle back to Chicago.
In their efforts to make Public Enemy No. 1 feel unwelcomed, Miami police and Dade County sheriffs hauled Capone to jail three times in a matter of months -- all for minor charges.
The final time stuck. Prosecutors said Capone perjured himself in a civil lawsuit against Public Safety Director S. D. McCreary over his arrests. Capone had sworn that when arrested on May 3, 1930, McCreary denied him the use of a telephone to call his attorney and threatened his relatives, saying he would arrest them on sight.
All a big lie, prosecutors said. The two-day trial began on July 10, 1930. Six wide-eyed jurors were picked to decide the fate of America's biggest crime boss. But things ended. When the prosecution rested, Capone's lawyers moved for a directed verdict of acquittal, claiming the state failed to prove its case.
Circuit Judge E.C. Collins agreed with Capone's lawyers and found the beefy mobster not guilty. Five years later, Collins would resign after being tried on corruption charges.
However, a year after his victory in Courtroom 6-1, Capone was convicted on federal charges of income tax evasion and sent to the clink for 11 years.
His days as a mob boss were over.
In 1939, Capone was released after serving most of his prison time in Alcatraz. By then, he was suffering with late-stage syphilis. He returned to his Palm Island home where he lived until his death on Jan. 25, 1947 at age 48.
Thanks to Luisa Yanez
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Banks Family Rules
In the overly gentrified Bucktown community on the city's North Side, neighbors call the gigantic gray stone home on Wood Street by a special name: the "French Embassy." But why not give it a proper name -- "La Palais de la famiglia du Pastries Banks."
The massive single-family home that dwarfs neighbors and casts a humongous shadow was featured in the Tribune's amazing series on zoning this week "Neighborhoods for Sale."
Written by Tribune reporters Dan Mihalopoulos, Robert Becker and Darnell Little, the series -- with more installments to come -- focused on what critics call Chicago's corrupt pay-to-play zoning system, and how neighborhoods suffer as real estate developers intersect with aldermanic ambition.
So I stood there on Wood Street on Wednesday, staring at the so-called French Embassy, the mountain of frozen gray stone, the wrought iron-covered balconies, the security cameras right out of a Ludlum novel. It didn't feel like Paris.
It felt more like Albania, at some Ministry of Information, or perhaps the compound of their late dictator, the psychotic communist Enver Hoxha. But I say live and let live. A property owner has the right to build what they choose to build on their own land. Yet not at the expense of their neighbors, merely because they touched their alderman with contributions and got the zoning lawyer whose uncle runs the zoning committee.
The problem with Chicago zoning, according to this series, is that everything is so haphazard, with some aldermen invoking some standards and other aldermen invoking other standards, so there is no one standard.
Except for the Banks Family Standard.
They're the powerful political family on the Northwest Side, picking judges, congressmen and Department of Transportation bosses. Some even consider them the second most powerful family in Chicago politics, behind, of course, Bruno and Toots Caruso from Chinatown.
I don't know if the Banks Family Standard is measured in pounds sterling, or cannoli from the city's finest bakeries, but when it comes to zoning in Chicago, the Banks Family Rules. After the mayor's brother Michael, the Banks family is the alpha and omega of zoning.
You'll find a Banks that sells property. Another that buys property. Another Banks is the city's busiest zoning lawyer.
Ald. William J.P. Banks, chairman of the Committee on Zoning, is the powerful boss of the 36th Ward. He's the boss when his big brother Sam "Pastries" Banks, a powerful attorney, lets him run things. And Pastries is the boss when state Sen. Jimmy DeLeo (D-How You Dooin?) is busy in Springfield, where he's the real governor, having to sometimes keep the pretend governor, Rod Blagojevich, in line.
And what about Jimmy Banks, son of Pastries, and a top zoning lawyer in his own right?
Jimmy Banks was the zoning lawyer for the "French Embassy" expansion, or, as neighbors may call it forevermore, "La Palais de la famiglia du Pastries Banks," and guess what?
It got approved. And the Bankses don't even live there.
His uncle, the alderman, excuses himself from the zoning meeting, as he does periodically when nephew Jimmy's cases come up. He walks into the City Council's back room, and has a sandwich and waits. And like so many times before, the aldermen approve Jimmy's zoning cases, not because he's Pastries' son or the alderman's nephew, or on account of 36th Ward muscle, but because of Jimmy's amazing legal abilities.
Cynics may scoff at such intellectual purity coming from City Hall on zoning issues, but don't be fooled. Chicago aldermen are known to be prisoners of their own virtue.
Pastries and his 36th Ward boys were also mentioned in the recent federal Family Secrets trial of Chicago Outfit crime bosses.
An Outfit sanctioned burglar, Sal Romano, testified that he bribed corrupt police with the help of Sam Banks, though Banks remained mum at the time of the testimony. And Annie Spilotro, widow of Michael "Magnum P.I." Spilotro, also testified that she had disagreements with DeLeo and Jimmy Banks over the sale of her husband's restaurant, after Michael and his brother Tony were murdered.
Apparently, there is bad blood between the families. Annie Spilotro testified that she appealed to Outfit boss James Marcello to iron out things between the Spilotros and Bankses. But the sit-down never took place. And that should have told the Spilotros where they stood.
Like those neighbors living next to the gargantuan structure on Wood Street, there are certain political dictums, (or is that dicta?) in Chicago, as "Neighborhoods For Sale" proved.
One is that you can't fight City Hall. And the other is that when it comes to building and zoning, the Banks Family Rules.
Thanks to John Kass
The massive single-family home that dwarfs neighbors and casts a humongous shadow was featured in the Tribune's amazing series on zoning this week "Neighborhoods for Sale."
Written by Tribune reporters Dan Mihalopoulos, Robert Becker and Darnell Little, the series -- with more installments to come -- focused on what critics call Chicago's corrupt pay-to-play zoning system, and how neighborhoods suffer as real estate developers intersect with aldermanic ambition.
So I stood there on Wood Street on Wednesday, staring at the so-called French Embassy, the mountain of frozen gray stone, the wrought iron-covered balconies, the security cameras right out of a Ludlum novel. It didn't feel like Paris.
It felt more like Albania, at some Ministry of Information, or perhaps the compound of their late dictator, the psychotic communist Enver Hoxha. But I say live and let live. A property owner has the right to build what they choose to build on their own land. Yet not at the expense of their neighbors, merely because they touched their alderman with contributions and got the zoning lawyer whose uncle runs the zoning committee.
The problem with Chicago zoning, according to this series, is that everything is so haphazard, with some aldermen invoking some standards and other aldermen invoking other standards, so there is no one standard.
Except for the Banks Family Standard.
They're the powerful political family on the Northwest Side, picking judges, congressmen and Department of Transportation bosses. Some even consider them the second most powerful family in Chicago politics, behind, of course, Bruno and Toots Caruso from Chinatown.
I don't know if the Banks Family Standard is measured in pounds sterling, or cannoli from the city's finest bakeries, but when it comes to zoning in Chicago, the Banks Family Rules. After the mayor's brother Michael, the Banks family is the alpha and omega of zoning.
You'll find a Banks that sells property. Another that buys property. Another Banks is the city's busiest zoning lawyer.
Ald. William J.P. Banks, chairman of the Committee on Zoning, is the powerful boss of the 36th Ward. He's the boss when his big brother Sam "Pastries" Banks, a powerful attorney, lets him run things. And Pastries is the boss when state Sen. Jimmy DeLeo (D-How You Dooin?) is busy in Springfield, where he's the real governor, having to sometimes keep the pretend governor, Rod Blagojevich, in line.
And what about Jimmy Banks, son of Pastries, and a top zoning lawyer in his own right?
Jimmy Banks was the zoning lawyer for the "French Embassy" expansion, or, as neighbors may call it forevermore, "La Palais de la famiglia du Pastries Banks," and guess what?
It got approved. And the Bankses don't even live there.
His uncle, the alderman, excuses himself from the zoning meeting, as he does periodically when nephew Jimmy's cases come up. He walks into the City Council's back room, and has a sandwich and waits. And like so many times before, the aldermen approve Jimmy's zoning cases, not because he's Pastries' son or the alderman's nephew, or on account of 36th Ward muscle, but because of Jimmy's amazing legal abilities.
Cynics may scoff at such intellectual purity coming from City Hall on zoning issues, but don't be fooled. Chicago aldermen are known to be prisoners of their own virtue.
Pastries and his 36th Ward boys were also mentioned in the recent federal Family Secrets trial of Chicago Outfit crime bosses.
An Outfit sanctioned burglar, Sal Romano, testified that he bribed corrupt police with the help of Sam Banks, though Banks remained mum at the time of the testimony. And Annie Spilotro, widow of Michael "Magnum P.I." Spilotro, also testified that she had disagreements with DeLeo and Jimmy Banks over the sale of her husband's restaurant, after Michael and his brother Tony were murdered.
Apparently, there is bad blood between the families. Annie Spilotro testified that she appealed to Outfit boss James Marcello to iron out things between the Spilotros and Bankses. But the sit-down never took place. And that should have told the Spilotros where they stood.
Like those neighbors living next to the gargantuan structure on Wood Street, there are certain political dictums, (or is that dicta?) in Chicago, as "Neighborhoods For Sale" proved.
One is that you can't fight City Hall. And the other is that when it comes to building and zoning, the Banks Family Rules.
Thanks to John Kass
Friday, February 01, 2008
"Tony Soprano" Punches Fan at Airport
"Sopranos" star James Gandolfini launched a violent attack on a fan at a New York airport after he was approached for an autograph.The 46-year-old became enraged when the man, brandishing a notepad and pen, came too close to the actor's fiance, Deborah Lin, and Gandolfini hit out, grabbing him by the collar and punching him in the face.
The altercation -- captured on camera -- took place as the couple passed through JFK airport on their way back from the Screen Actor's Guild Awards in Los Angeles on Sunday, where Gandolfini picked up the Best Actor gong for his role in the hit TV series.
But the actor soon calmed down, and before leaving he apologized to the fan, taking time to sign the autograph and pose for a picture, according to the New York Daily News.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)