Five Families: The Rise, Decline, and Resurgence of America's Most Powerful Mafia Empires (114 page)

Brevetti was “a little spooked” by the reported threat on her life because she had returned home one evening to find her air conditioners, which she had turned off that morning, were running full throttle. Someone had been in her apartment. Advised by agents to leave town while they investigated further, she vacationed uneasily in Hawaii. Brevetti understood that there was no evidence that Massino knew of the hit plan. The FBI learned that the only gunman willing to take the assignment was Jimmy Hydell. Before Hydell could even plan the hits, in a unrelated development he was tortured to death for trying to kill the Lucchese leader Anthony Casso. Gaspipe had unintentionally eliminated the threat to Brevetti and Judge Nickerson.

Next on the convicted Massino’s court calendar was a RICO trial in Manhattan, along with his brother-in-law Sal Vitale. Both were accused of being players in a Mafia “enterprise.” The most serious, substantive charges of conspiring in four homicides—the three Bonanno capos and Joseph Do Do Pastore—were leveled only against Massino. The underlying charges against Sal involved joining Massino in two hijackings and obstruction of justice. The chief prosecutor, Michael Chertoff, fresh from his triumph in the Commission case, offered leniency to Massino if he admitted at least one of the murders. Rejecting the deal—a sentence of about twelve years to run concurrently with his ten-year labor racketeering term—Massino decided to risk a trial. It was a gamble that could cost twenty years if he lost.

“He’s the Horatio Alger of the Mafia,” Chertoff dubbed Massino, attempting to rivet the jury’s attention to Massino’s importance. The prosecutor sketched Massino’s rapid criminal rise, warning the jury that he was destined for Mob stardom unless a guilty verdict derailed him. The government’s central witness was hulking muscleman Ray Wean, Massino’s former hijacking assistant. Wean ratcheted up the courage to testify against his former capo as the only way to keep himself out of prison. The FBI’s Joe Pistone, who was instrumental in convicting Massino in the Local 814 trial, was called upon again as an essential witness corroborating Massino’s dominant position in the family.

Ever sociable, Massino found an occasion during a break in the trial to buttonhole Joe Pistone. He wanted to know which actor would portray him in
Donnie Brasco
, a forthcoming movie based on the agent’s undercover exploits against the Bonannos. “That’s the problem, Joey,” Pistone answered. “We’re having a hard time finding an actor as fat as you are.” The unflappable Massino laughed along with Pistone.

Two RICO-experienced lawyers were at the defense table. Samuel Dawson, who had battled Chertoff in the Commission case, represented Massino. Serving as Vitale’s counsel was Bruce Cutler, who had vaulted to legal prominence after obtaining an acquittal for John Gotti in his first jury-tainted racketeering trial. Well versed in the intricacies of the RICO statute, the lawyers counted on a “time-limit” aspect of the law to overcome the prosecution’s evidence, regardless of the verdicts.

Their strategy worked. Massino was acquitted of the four murder-conspiracy counts, but the jury voted unanimously that the brothers-in-law were guilty of many of the other crimes. The jurors, however, found that some critical substantive acts (specific crimes) had occurred more than five years before the indictments
or ten years apart from each other. Ruling in favor of defense motions, the presiding judge cited a Statute of Limitations requirement and immediately overturned the verdicts. He dismissed all charges on grounds that the crimes, spanning nineteen years, did not fall within RICO’s required time period. A technical loophole had won the day for Massino and Vitale.

At the start of the trial, Cutler rhapsodized about Vitale’s affection for Massino. “Not only did they grow up together in Brooklyn, not only does he love Joe Massino, not only is he related to Joe Massino through marriage, but he is proud of it, and will show it,” he told the jury. The RICO dismissals in June 1987 allowed Sal to celebrate with his lawyers at a Manhattan steak house while Joey, continuing his sentence for labor racketeering, had to be content with prison grub.

Before Massino was shipped off to the federal penitentiary in Talladega, Alabama, to begin his labor-racketeering sentence, Vitale paid him a visit in the Metropolitan Correction Center in Lower Manhattan, the federal detention jail. Brooding over his RICO conviction in the Local 814 Teamsters’ case, Massino laid the blame on capo Gabriel Infanti. While Rastelli was in prison in the 1970s and early 1980s, Massino had collected kickbacks that flowed through the local from moving companies. The conduit for the loot was Anthony Giliberti, a convicted stickup man and distant relative of Phil Rastelli, who emerged from prison totally inexperienced in labor affairs, and swiftly became a high-salaried union organizer and business agent. Believing that Giliberti was disobeying orders and might be blabbing to investigators, Massino decreed his death. The contract went to Infanti, and in a drive-by attack on July 14, 1982, Giliberti was shot nine times as he was entering his car. Recovered from his wounds, the union official became the pivotal witness four years later against Massino.

Massino complained to Vitale that Infanti had messed up the Giliberti hit by not requiring the shooters to get out of their car to finish off the victim. He had other grievances against Infanti. The capo had been responsible for disposing of Cesare Bonventre’s body, but the dismembered corpse was found stuffed into two barrels and was identified. Finally, Infanti was seen talking and joking with FBI Agent Pat Marshall. In Massino’s eyes, that was sufficient evidence that he was a traitor.

Outlining a contract to Vitale, Massino said sharply, “I want it done and I want it done now.”

A week before Christmas 1987, Vitale and an accomplice lured Infanti to a Brooklyn warehouse for another of those “routine meetings.” Before it began he
was shot in the back of the head and killed. The triggerman kept $2,500 that Infanti was carrying. Infanti’s body was better concealed than Bonventre’s and was never located. In essence, Infanti paid with his life for allowing Giliberti to testify and to send Massino to prison.

Patting itself on the back, the FBI looked with pride at the convictions of the Bonannos’ upper crust. The boss, Rastelli, and Massino, who had officially been appointed underboss, were behind bars, and the bureau classified the Bonanno family as crippled and of dwindling importance. Supervisors and agents prepared to move on to larger Mob priorities throughout the late 1980s and early ’90s.

Most of Rusty Rastelli’s undistinguished reign had been ruinous, producing murderous purges, losses of lucrative rackets, and prison terms for himself, Massino, and other veteran leaders. Earlier, before his long prison sentences, Rastelli had been feared in the Mafia for his deadly rages. His wife, Connie, angered over her husband’s infidelities, volunteered information to the FBI about his criminal freebooting. In 1962, soon after talking to the bureau, Mrs. Rastelli disappeared, and investigators believed she was murdered at the behest of Rastelli, although killing a woman, rather than terrifying her into silence, violated the Mafia’s code of honor.

In prison for a second lengthy term, and soon stricken with cancer, Rastelli held the titular rank of boss, but his authority in the borgata waned. Not so for Massino; for him prison time was a period for retaining control and planning ahead. He relied on Vitale, promoting him to capo and using him as a transmission belt to maintain command of the borgata’s shriveled ranks.

At monthly visits in Talladega, Vitale urged Massino to accept the mantle of leadership, stressing that it was the wish of a majority of the remaining capos. Honoring Cosa Nostra tradition that a boss keeps his title for life, and out of respect for Rastelli’s sponsorship of his career, Massino refused to become a godfather while Rusty was alive. Yet, despite his affection for Rastelli, Massino did drop a stinging remark about him in a chat with Vitale. “How smart can he be? He spent half his life in jail.”

Vitale became the principal financial caretaker for his imprisoned brother-in-law. Before his conviction, Joe had cut him in on a potpourri of rackets: loan-sharking, bookmaking, video gambling machines—popularly known as Joker Poker—and the extortion of a large catering company that supplied food to roach coaches. Thousands more rolled in weekly from other loot, and Vitale made sure the correct amounts went to his sister, Joe’s wife, and their daughters.

“He made me what I am” Vitale told fellow mobsters about his distribution of illegal profits. “It’s only right to give him his 50 percent.”

Among the reasons for which Vitale had to show his gratitude was a buried secret about his past. Massino had allowed him to be straightened out although he should have been automatically disqualified for Mafia membership for having worked one year as a corrections officer. When wiseguys asked about the rumor that Sal had been a prison guard, Massino had always assured them it was untrue. “I know him all my life,” he lied. “He was never a C.O.”

Massino counted on Good-Looking Sal and the new consigliere Anthony Spero, based in Brooklyn, to serve as his overseers and keep the remnants of the borgata intact. All his orders and advice were delivered by Sal, who qualified for his prison visitors’ list because he was a relative. Massino’s basic instructions were: no wiseguys could be made without his consent; no captains should be broken while he was away; and no soldiers could be transferred to different crews during his prison term.

“But never show any weakness to other families, or they’ll take advantage of you,” Massino lectured Vitale. Another point that he pressed was: “Defend yourselves at all costs.” Confident he was doing everything Massino would have wanted, Vitale snapped commands to capos: “This is how Joe wants it done.”

Massino also compelled Vitale to stay close to his influential Gambino ally John Gotti, to consult with him at least every two weeks, and take his advice. To retain Gotti’s good will, Vitale ordered the murder of Bonanno associate Louis Tuzzio in 1990. Gotti was incensed that Tuzzio, while carrying out a hit for the Bonannos, had accidentally shot and wounded the son of a Gambino soldier. Gotti flexed his muscles and Vitale had to soothe him.

In 1991 and 1992, Vitale acted with greater latitude when his direct line to Massino was severed. Nearing parole eligibility, Massino dropped Vitale from his visitors’ list, fearing that the authorities might deny him early release by claiming Sal’s visits were used to discuss organized-crime matters. Vitale believed that Massino would still “communicate” important instructions to him, even if the messages were cryptic, through his sister, Josie, who, of course, continued to see her husband.

Cut off from Massino, Vitale decided that as his surrogate he held the power of life and death if an emergency endangered the welfare of the family. He continued collecting payoffs for himself and for Massino, and he exercised the supreme power normally reserved for a boss. He ordered three slayings without Massino’s knowledge. On the street, no one questioned Sal’s right to the administration’s
share of loot or to issue contracts for capital punishment. “Everybody knows Sal speaks for Joe,” FBI Agent Jack Stubing noted at the time.

Inside his cell in Talladega, Massino could rest assured that his Mob family interests and his financial coffers were safeguarded by Good-Looking Sal. He was ready for a spectacular reign as soon as the prison gates were flung open for him.

The Genial Godfather
aka “The Ear”

R
usty Rastelli died of liver cancer at age seventy-three in June 1991. The next year, granted “supervised release” (parole), after serving six years, Joe Massino on his first day of freedom was greeted as a Mafia godfather. Before his parole, Massino instructed Vitale, “If Rastelli dies, make me boss,” and Sal had complied. A few days after Rastelli’s funeral, consigliere Anthony Spero, following Mafia protocol, convened a meeting of some ten capos in Staten Island at the Dawson Circle home of a captain, Charles “Crazy Charlie” Musillo. Joe Massino, the lone candidate, was elected unanimously.