The Last Testament of Lucky Luciano: The Mafia Story in His Own Words (21 page)

While the plot against Pinzolo was maturing, Tom Gagliano picked up the negotiations Reina had started with Maranzano. Early in the summer, accompanied by Joe Adonis, he met Joe Profaci at Peter Luger’s, a famous Brooklyn steak house. As Luciano was told soon afterwards, “When Adonis, Profaci and Gagliano came out of the restaurant, Maranzano was sittin’ in the back of Joe A.’s car with Joe Bananas, waitin’ for ’em. That’s where and how the deal was made for the Reina family to make a secret switch to Maranzano.

“While this was goin’ on, I talked privately to Anastasia. I knew I could count on him and I knew he would kill for me. When I told Albert what the plan was, he grabbed me in a bear hug and kissed me on both cheeks. He said, ‘Charlie, I been waitin’ for this day for at least eight years. You’re gonna be on top if I have to kill everybody for you. With you there, that’s the only way we can have any peace and make the real money. But I gotta warn you, you gotta get rid of Pete Morello before anybody else — take my word for it; you don’t know him like I do — because this guy can smell a bullet before it leaves the gun. You’ll never knock off Joe the Boss unless you get Morello outa the way.’ ”

Pietro “The Clutching Hand” Morello was a veteran gunman and Masseria’s constant bodyguard and shadow. His elimination was, indeed, a necessity, and Luciano handed that assignment to Anastasia and Frank Scalise. On August 15, 1930, the two trapped Morello in his loansharking office in East Harlem and gunned him down. “There was another guy with him in the office, and he hadda get it too. Later on, I found out that his name was Pariano and he was a collector for Masseria. Albert told me that when he and Scalise walked in, Morello was countin’ receipts, and they grabbed the dough after they knocked him off; it come to more than thirty grand.”

Unaware of the Luciano-Anastasia involvement, Masseria was convinced that the murder of Morello had been committed at Maranzano’s orders and he bought the rumors that the gunman was a hired import from Chicago. He immediately sought revenge, and it was to Chicago that he turned to exact it. There Masseria was supported by Capone, while Maranzano was receiving both moral and financial support from Capone’s bitter enemy, Joseph
Aiello. “To make sure the job was done right, Masseria sent Al Mineo to Chicago to handle things.” Aiello was machine-gunned to death on a Chicago street. The police blamed Capone mobsters for the killing.

On November 5, 1930, Maranzano retaliated. Three of his gunmen had been holed up in a Bronx apartment overlooking the residence of top Masseria aides in hopes of catching Joe the Boss in a crossfire if and when he paid a visit. That afternoon, Masseria, indeed, showed up, accompanied by his number two and three leaders, Steven Ferrigno and Al Mineo. Maranzano’s gunmen opened up, killing both Mineo and Ferrigno. But Masseria still seemed impervious to bullets; he escaped unharmed.

The climax to the Castellammarese War was rapidly approaching. Soldiers on both sides were in hiding, gunning for each other on sight. A climate of fear had been created, diverting time and attention from the real business of the underworld, making money out of the rackets. If the war continued, public attention would focus sharply on the underworld and would lead to a severe crackdown. Once more, Luciano met with his friends at Oyster Bay. This time, Lansky was present. The time had arrived, it was decided, to put their plans into operation. Word was promptly sent to Maranzano that Luciano was now prepared, “for the good of everybody,” to do what Maranzano had demanded more than a year before on Staten Island. “I knew the time for this was absolutely perfect. Masseria’s luck was holdin’ good, and Maranzano couldn’t get within a mile of him. He’d have to have me, and nobody else but me, to settle this thing once and for all. If I was gonna negotiate, this was the time to move.”

Through Tony Bender, a meeting was arranged. “Maranzano knew goddamn well, after what happened on the pier, I wasn’t gonna give him the right time when it come to pickin’ the place. I finally made the meet at the Bronx Zoo. I had Tommy Lucchese, Joe A. and Bugsy Siegel with me; I wanted to have a Jew so Maranzano would know he couldn’t pull the ‘exclusive Sicilian’ crap again. He had Joe Profaci and Joe Bananas with him. It was late in the afternoon when we met in front of the lion cage. I said to him, ‘I hope you appreciate that the lion is supposed to be the king of the animals.’ That done it. Maranzano laughed,
and his belly started to shake like jelly. He put his arm around me, but before he could open his mouth, I said, ‘Maranzano, there’s somethin’ I been wantin’ to tell you for a long time. My father’s the only one who calls me bambino.’ Jesus, you might think I hit him. He stopped smilin’ and he really got sore.

“He said somethin’ like that he couldn’t understand why I should resent it, that didn’t I understand that he could look on me like his own son. I said, ‘After what happened between us last year, I’ll never look on you as my old man, so let’s stop that horseshit and get down to business. If we work everythin’ out, then we’ll be friends. That’s it.’ ”

Everything was, indeed, worked out. Maranzano guaranteed the personal safety of Luciano and his friends and followers once the Masseria murder had been accomplished and peace restored. He guaranteed that he would not interfere with Luciano’s business or that of Lansky and Siegel, Adonis or Costello. “And he agreed to get rid of all that exclusive Sicilian crap when I pointed out to him that it was crazy and didn’t mean a fuck.” When the agreement had been struck, Maranzano pointed to Luciano’s face and expressed a regret that he had been provoked into doing such a thing. “Never mind. I’m ready to forget it. Let’s look ahead,” Luciano said.

Maranzano, reverting to his papal attitude, stretched out his hands and placed them on Luciano’s shoulders. “Whether you like it or not, Salvatore Lucania, you are my bambino.”

Spring had come to New York, and April 15, 1931, was a beautiful warm and sunny day. That morning at nine o’clock, Luciano and Masseria were alone at one of Joe the Boss’s headquarters, on lower Second Avenue in downtown Manhattan. Masseria leaned back and listened as Luciano outlined the blueprint for the murder of a score of Maranzano’s lieutenants, a bloodletting that would bring complete victory to Masseria. “I must’ve talked for a couple of hours and old Joe was beamin’ and laughin’ like he could just taste Maranzano’s blood out of a gold cup. Finally, he leaps out of this leather chair about twice as big as he was and he starts to do a dance in the middle of the office. The only time I ever seen anythin’ like it was in the newsreels durin’ the war when
they showed Hitler doin’ a dance like that when he beat France. It reminded me of Masseria — two fruitcakes in search of a brain.”

About noon, Luciano suggested that, the day being so pleasant, they drive out to Coney Island for a leisurely lunch to celebrate the impending victory. “I could see Masseria’s eyes start to shine the minute I mentioned this great food and when I was makin’ the arrangements over the phone, I swear I could see the spit droolin’ out of his mouth, because I ordered enough food to stuff a horse.”

Luciano and Masseria reached the Nuova Villa Tammaro in Coney Island shortly after noon, and the restaurant’s owner, a friend of Luciano and many other mobsters, named Gerardo Scarpato, showed them to a table in a corner of the crowded restaurant. Never a big eater, Luciano ate slowly and sparingly, sipping a little red wine. Masseria gorged himself on antipasto, spaghetti with red clam sauce, lobster Fra Diavolo, a quart of Chianti. He was still eating when most of the other diners had departed. He still had ahead of him cream-filled pastry and strong Italian coffee. “It took him about three hours to finish that meal.”

Just before three-thirty, the last customers had gone and so had most of the help. Luciano and Masseria were the last patrons. Luciano suggested that they relax for a while and play a game of Klob, a Russian-Hungarian two-handed card game that Masseria had learned from Frank Costello. Masseria hesitated for a moment, then agreed to a short game, reminding Luciano that there was still work to be done back at headquarters. Scarpato brought a deck of cards to the table and then left, saying that he was going for a walk along the beach.

They had played only a single hand, had just dealt the cards for a second, when Luciano got up from the table and told Masseria he had to go to the men’s room. Masseria relaxed, enjoying a second bottle of wine.

As soon as the lavatory door closed behind Luciano, the front door of the Villa Tammaro opened. The car that Luciano had driven from Manhattan had been followed at a discreet distance by a black limousine, driven by Ciro Terranova and carrying Vito Genovese, Joe Adonis, Albert Anastasia and Bugsy Siegel. Those four burst into the restaurant, pulled out pistols, and began firing
at Joe the Boss. More than twenty shots ricocheted around the room, six smashing directly into Masseria, who slumped over the table, face down, his blood staining the white tablecloth; in his right hand dangled the ace of diamonds.

Even before silence returned, Genovese, Adonis, Anastasia and Siegel were out the door and into the waiting car, its motor still running. But Terranova was so shaken that he was unable to put the car in gear. Siegel pushed him away, took the wheel himself, and sped off. The killing had taken less than a minute; there were no witnesses.

And Luciano? He emerged from the lavatory, took a look at the dead Masseria, called the police, and waited for them to arrive. “When the cops come, naturally they wanted to know whether I seen what happened. I said no, I didn’t, and I didn’t have no idea why somebody would want to kill Joe. They asked me where I was when it happened — and every newspaper printed that I said, ‘As soon as I finished dryin’ my hands, I walked out to see what it was all about.’ That’s an absolute lie. I said to them, ‘I was in the can takin’ a leak. I always take a long leak.’ ”

Masseria was given the funeral befitting his status. His body lay in state for some days, and then was followed to the cemetery by cars laden with flowers and limousines filled with mourners. When it was over, Luciano took Genovese aside, the first opportunity that they had to talk about the events at Coney Island. “How did it go?”

Genovese smiled. “The old man would’ve been proud of it.”

“Maranzano had it all now; he didn’t waste a single day in startin’ to make plans. He was gonna have the damnedest ‘inauguration’ that ever took place in the United States of America. In a few weeks after Masseria stopped bein’ a pig and become a
corpse, all Maranzano could think about was the day he was gonna be crowned king.”

But Luciano was just as determined that the reign would be brief. As Maranzano was planning his coronation, Luciano called together his own cabinet to put in motion the program that would place Charlie Lucky Luciano at the top of organized crime. The decision then was to move slowly, with patience, to let Maranzano initially proceed unopposed; they were sure that Maranzano would do much to bring about his own downfall.

With an almost naïve arrogance, Maranzano assumed that no one would dare challenge him, that any threats could be eliminated with little difficulty. He sent out invitations to a formal crowning, to a ceremony of obeisance — more a command than an invitation — to hundreds of mob leaders and followers in New York and around the nation. More than five hundred jammed a large banquet hall on the Grand Concourse in the Bronx, filling every chair in a prearranged order according to rank. On the dais, facing the throng, sat Maranzano on a large thronelike chair, rented from a theatrical prop warehouse specially for the occasion. On either side of him, he placed those he was about to install as his princes and lords, the heads of the various gangs and units. Luciano sat at his right hand, the designated crown prince.

“The whole joint was practically covered with crosses, religious pictures, statues of the Virgin and saints I never heard of. Maranzano was the biggest cross nut in the world — he wore a cross around his neck, he had ’em in his pockets, wherever he was there was crosses all over the place. He was an absolute maniac on religion. In fact, he used to call guys in and bawl the shit out of ’em for not goin’ to church. I remember one time — it was a little later — when Mike Miranda told me that Maranzano give it to him about the church and Mike said to him, ‘How can I go to church when I just knocked off a guy?’ He said Maranzano told him, ‘That has nothing to do with it. Religion is only concerned with a man’s soul.’ ”

When Maranzano rose, there was absolute silence. He spoke in Italian, lapsing into Sicilian dialect often and larding his speech with Latin quotations. He explained that a new day was dawning. There had been attempts, he said, from Chicago to thwart this
meeting — there had been opposition to his endeavors to bring order, leadership and discipline to the chaos and warring of recent years. All this he regretted, but the massing of all his good friends showed that such efforts had come to nothing.

Maranzano used every trick of an accomplished orator as he spoke, intoning, lowering his voice almost to a whisper to make his audience lean forward to catch his words, stretching out his arms in the attitude of benediction. Raising a clenched fist, he proclaimed himself the Supreme Ruler, the Boss of all Bosses —
Capo di Tutti Capi
. He explained that no longer would he rule a separate organization of his own; everything would now be combined into a single organization under one rule — his. He would control a share of everything to be reaped by all the new “families” (a euphemism he ordered to replace the pejorative “gang” or “mob”) and he would later tell all the sub-leaders how large a share that would be.

He outlined the details of the mergers and realignments that would create five major families in New York that would control the world of crime under his authority. They would have noncompeting jurisdictions, either in territories or spheres of operations, and each member present would belong to one of those families. To head those families, to be their
capos
, he appointed (and as he cited the names, he nodded for the man to rise): Charlie Lucky Luciano, who would control what remained of the Masseria group and who would supervise the whole underworld under Maranzano; Tom Gagliano, who would take over the former Reina interests; Joe Bonanno, Joe Profaci and Vincent Mangano, who would head the other three families based on gangs they had controlled in the past.