The former right-hand man of reputed mob killer Anthony Calabrese had a simple explanation for jurors Tuesday about how the two men roughed up a suspected snitch.
"We both got to stomping," explained Robert Cooper, testifying against his former friend on the second day of Calabrese's trial.
"We put the boots to him. We both had steel-toed boots," Cooper said.
The victim, Edmund Frank, really was an informant and happened to be wearing a secret recording device for the feds while taking the beating. Jurors might hear a recording of the brutal attack today.
Calabrese is the chief suspect in the last known mob hit in the Chicago area, the 2001 shooting death of top mobster Anthony "The Hatch" Chiaramonti, as well as the 1997 attempted murder of a Naperville woman.
Cooper pleaded guilty to helping Calabrese in the 2001 mob hit and was sentenced to 22 years in prison. While Calabrese hasn't been charged with the murder and attempted murder, he's on trial for three armed robberies of suburban businesses, including the 2001 ripoff of a leather jacket store in Morton Grove.
Calabrese faces more than 50 years behind bars if convicted, and investigators hope that long prison sentence can persuade him to reveal who hired him for the mob hit and the attempted murder.
On Tuesday, Cooper told jurors that he and Calabrese took part in the leather goods store robbery.
Cooper began cooperating in 2002, saying he was motivated by threats against his family, not the reduced prison time he eventually received for the murder.
Cooper said he fears Calabrese to this day, even though Cooper is in witness protection while in federal prison.
When asked by Calabrese's attorney whether Calabrese is the only person he's afraid of, Cooper answered, "At the moment, yes, he is."
Thanks to Steve Warmbir
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Sandy Smith's Nerves of Steel
In 1966, intrepid Chicago Sun-Times reporter Sandy Smith broke a national story about how the Chicago mob controlled and skimmed millions of dollars a year from Las Vegas casinos. The cash was lugged out in bags and suitcases and personally delivered to the Tony Sopranos of the day in Chicago, Miami, Cleveland and New York.
"To protect that vast funding of syndicate operations, a generous and steady supply of money was kept flowing into politicians' warchests," Smith wrote. "The gifts were labeled political contributions but were considered as payoffs by the gangsters and their casino frontmen."
Smith later testified for two hours before the Nevada Gaming Commission, and, less than a year later, seven Nevada hoods were indicted.
Nineteen years would pass before Martin Scorsese's film "Casino" would dramatize the "skim" that Smith revealed first.
Now, here's where the nerves of steel come in: As part of his research, Smith once crashed a wedding reception for the daughter of a mob boss and wrote down all the names on the table cards.
Thanks to the Sun-Times
"To protect that vast funding of syndicate operations, a generous and steady supply of money was kept flowing into politicians' warchests," Smith wrote. "The gifts were labeled political contributions but were considered as payoffs by the gangsters and their casino frontmen."
Smith later testified for two hours before the Nevada Gaming Commission, and, less than a year later, seven Nevada hoods were indicted.
Nineteen years would pass before Martin Scorsese's film "Casino" would dramatize the "skim" that Smith revealed first.
Now, here's where the nerves of steel come in: As part of his research, Smith once crashed a wedding reception for the daughter of a mob boss and wrote down all the names on the table cards.
Thanks to the Sun-Times
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Will Robbery Trial Lead to Confession from Suspected Mob Hit Man?
The reputed mob hit man sat at a courtroom table Monday in Chicago looking more corporate than killer, in glasses and a blue suit wrapped around his beefy frame, as federal prosecutors presented their case against him that could put him in prison for the rest of his life.
Anthony Calabrese, 47, is a suspect but not charged in the last known mob hit in the Chicago area in 2001 and the attempted murder of a Naperville woman in 1997. But on Monday, he faced charges that he orchestrated three brutal armed robberies of businesses in the suburbs. If convicted, he faces more than 50 years in prison, and authorities hope to use that leverage to persuade Calabrese to confess to who hired him for the murder and attempted murder.
His attorney Steven Hunter said Calabrese was the victim of drug-using criminals making up stories about him to save their hides.
"My client rubbed elbows with some pretty tough customers, and he's a pretty tough customer himself, but that doesn't mean he's guilty of these crimes," Hunter told jurors.
The first witness in the case, a 78-year-old woman, described how she was led at gunpoint with her son to the back of his Morton Grove leather goods store in 2001.
The mother, Molly Nudell, and her son were bound with duct tape and told to lay face down on the cement floor. They feared they would be killed.
"We were saying goodbye to each other," Nudell said.
The men didn't wear masks, but Nudell couldn't identify Calabrese as one of the intruders. But one man who pleaded guilty to the robbery said Calabrese called the shots.
Sean Smith said he had qualms about the robbery, even vomiting beforehand, and asked to beg off.
"You're going to go in or you're getting f----- up," Smith recalled Calabrese telling him.
Calabrese's attorney, Hunter, noted Smith attributed the threat to another crew member in his grand jury testimony.
Thanks to Steve Warmbir
Anthony Calabrese, 47, is a suspect but not charged in the last known mob hit in the Chicago area in 2001 and the attempted murder of a Naperville woman in 1997. But on Monday, he faced charges that he orchestrated three brutal armed robberies of businesses in the suburbs. If convicted, he faces more than 50 years in prison, and authorities hope to use that leverage to persuade Calabrese to confess to who hired him for the murder and attempted murder.
His attorney Steven Hunter said Calabrese was the victim of drug-using criminals making up stories about him to save their hides.
"My client rubbed elbows with some pretty tough customers, and he's a pretty tough customer himself, but that doesn't mean he's guilty of these crimes," Hunter told jurors.
The first witness in the case, a 78-year-old woman, described how she was led at gunpoint with her son to the back of his Morton Grove leather goods store in 2001.
The mother, Molly Nudell, and her son were bound with duct tape and told to lay face down on the cement floor. They feared they would be killed.
"We were saying goodbye to each other," Nudell said.
The men didn't wear masks, but Nudell couldn't identify Calabrese as one of the intruders. But one man who pleaded guilty to the robbery said Calabrese called the shots.
Sean Smith said he had qualms about the robbery, even vomiting beforehand, and asked to beg off.
"You're going to go in or you're getting f----- up," Smith recalled Calabrese telling him.
Calabrese's attorney, Hunter, noted Smith attributed the threat to another crew member in his grand jury testimony.
Thanks to Steve Warmbir
Monday, February 04, 2008
Was it Self-Defense or Murder by Alleged Mobster?
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
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
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
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