Mob Rules

by Louis Ferrante

  —Eliot Spitzer

  U.S. Attorney General Alberto Gonzales was forced to resign after a trail of e-mails revealed his knowledge of a politically motivated firing spree of U.S. attorneys.

  In the Mob we knew that, even if we didn’t have anything bad to say, a few honest words could be misconstrued or twisted. The same goes for the business world. If a benign comment can be taken out of context, imagine what a derogatory remark said in passing can turn into if heard by the wrong ears.

  Watch what you say.

  LESSON 21

  He Should Kill Gus Farace or Kill Himself: Respecting the Chain of Command

  IN 1989, Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA) agent Everett Hatcher was working undercover when Mafia associate Gus Farace blew Hatcher’s brains out on a Staten Island overpass. Farace took it on the lam and was instantly catapulted from low-level thug to America’s Most Wanted.

  The feds put the squeeze on the Mob, and the Mob responded to their pressure by marking Farace for death.

  Not surprisingly, the Mob located Farace before the feds found him.

  Lucchese mobster John Petrucelli, close friends with Farace, had been hiding him. Petrucelli was called in by his capo and told to get rid of the guy.

  “I can’t do that,” he replied.

  Word came down from the top. Lucchese boss Vittorio “Little Vic” Amuso said, “[Petrucelli] should kill Farace, or kill himself.”

  Their way sure is faster.

  —FBI agent referring to Mafia-style justice.

  This is a Mafia boss giving a final decree, not Mr. Whipple telling you, “Don’t squeeze the Charmin.”

  Still, Petrucelli refused—and was killed.

  Orders must be followed on every level. When a command is ignored, a soldier or employee must be dealt with. The Mafia is an underworld government; our national government operates by the same strict protocols.

  On a Friday afternoon, chauffeured black Cadillacs began lining up in the driveway of a white mansion. Men in dark suits, accompanied by bodyguards, got out of the Caddies and walked into the mansion. They had been summoned by their boss to a secret meeting. Something had to be done about a guy who wasn’t following orders.

  After some discussion, the men decided that a compromise was out of the question; they needed to “remove the guy.”

  I felt terrible that a man with such balls had to be hit. But this was Cosa Nostra. The boss of my family had ordered it. The entire Commission ordered it. There was nothing else I could do.

  —Sammy “The Bull” Gravano

  The next day, their final decision made headlines: “TRUMAN FIRES MACARTHUR.”

  General Douglas MacArthur had a supersized ego. His victorious island-hopping campaign against the Japanese during World War II had inflated his head even more. During the Korean War that followed, MacArthur, confident in his own military genius, began ignoring his commander-in-chief, President Harry Truman. MacArthur, a military man, disregarded political considerations that Truman had to weigh daily. Truman, a political product of the Mafia-connected Pendergast Machine, knew how to deal with him.

  Truman owes everything he’s got to us. Pendergast made him a judge and then, with the Italian muscle behind him, got him to the Senate.

  —Sam Giancana

  After consulting with his advisers, Truman removed MacArthur in a scene straight out of a Mob movie, black Caddies and all. Only difference was that the white mansion in question was the White House. In the end, the consequences for disobeying orders were the same—career death.

  Whether you look at Don Vic Amuso eliminating Petrucelli or President Harry Truman removing MacArthur, history is filled with object lessons in the importance of following the chain of command. Respect this at the bottom. Enforce it at the top. The alternative is anarchy.

  LESSON 22

  Go Get Your Own Coffee!: Respecting the Chain of Command Without Being a Sucker

  AS you’ve just read, you must respect the chain of command; orders are orders. But there’s a difference between getting serious orders issued for the good of an organization, and being handed a grocery list. True, you must follow orders, but you can’t waste half your day at Starbucks ordering Frappuccinos for the boss.

  On the streets, I was a good earner and a legitimate tough guy, so I had the respect of other street toughs. Still, I couldn’t stop high-ranking wiseguys from trying to play me. I’d draw a line, but telling a wiseguy to “go fuck yourself” isn’t good for your health. I avoided confrontations by finding a sensible way to get the same message across, usually by coming up with funny ways to deal with smart-asses.

  Here’s one situation where I made my point, gained a capo’s respect, and got a laugh along the way:

  Earlier, we met Gambino capo Robert “Bobby Cabert” Bisaccia, the guy who used to tell me to “answer the bell” while we were in prison together. Bobby and I weren’t always so close; our friendship had a rocky start.

  Bobby was issued a worn prison uniform that was so wrinkled, it looked like it had been crumpled into a ball before being flattened by a steam roller. Since I was in Bobby’s crime family, beneath him in rank, and half his age, he thought he could give me the menial task of ironing his uniform. The problem was that Bobby didn’t really know me. I always respected my elders and understood the chain of command, but I was nobody’s coolie.

  Maybe you didn’t hear about it; you’ve been away a long time. They didn’t go up there and tell you. I don’t shine shoes anymore.

  —Tommy DeVito, Goodfellas

  When Bobby tried to hand me his uniform, I laughed and told him that I didn’t iron my own uniform, but paid another con to do it for me. I added that I’d happily connect him with my guy.

  Bobby ignored my offer and again asked me to iron his uniform. I smiled, but ground my teeth.

  Okay, I said to myself. I’ll fix his ass.

  I took Bobby’s uniform, walked it over to my ironing guy, and said, “Make this look worse than it does, if possible.”

  When I returned the uniform to Bobby, I said with a wink, “This was the best I could do. Hope you like it.”

  Bobby looked irritated for a moment, then laughed as he realized his mistake. I was a street tough like him, a stand-up guy like him, and was facing the rest of my life behind bars, like him. If I’d wanted to iron pants, I’d have gotten a job at a Laundromat. I certainly wouldn’t have been sitting in a prison cell.

  Once Bobby knew where I stood, we hit it off. I didn’t mind making him a cup of coffee, if I was also having one. And Bobby didn’t mind sharing a cup with me, something he’d never do with a coffee boy.

  To be sure Bobby harbored no hard feelings, I used my connections at the prison laundry to get Bobby a brand new uniform, straight out of the box.

  In the end, Bobby got what he wanted, a pressed uniform. And I got what I wanted, the same respect I was willing to give.

  An ancient Mediterranean warship, called a trireme, presents a perfect example of a modern Mafia organization or corporation.

  A trireme had 170 oarsmen on three levels: top, middle, and bottom row. Together these men powered the ship forward.

  The ship’s captain was known as the trierarch, or CEO.

  The ship’s overall success, like that of any good company, depended on speed and maneuverability.

  The comic playwright Aristophanes tells us, in describing the levels of a trireme, that one row farts in the other’s face—not unlike a company.

  On the way up, you can put up with a few farts, but never let anyone shit on you.

  LESSON 23

  Kill or Be Killed: When to Defy Orders

  PHILLY don “Little Nicky” Scarfo wanted to whack mobster Salvatore Testa. Scarfo had one of his capos give the contract to Testa’s best friend, Joe Pungitore. Pungitore was unhappy with the job, but business was business; he had to do it or he’d be killed himself. He agreed to lure Testa to his death, but refused to pull the trigger.

  When Scarfo was told of
Pungitore’s response, he laughed and said, “What the fuck’s the difference?” Scarfo understood that participation in a murder was the same as personally killing someone.

  Big corporations don’t put contracts out on their employees, but they can perpetrate evil just as effectively as the Mob.

  Don’t start talking to me about legitimate business. What about chemical companies dumping all that shit into the rivers and they get all these deformed babies popping up all over the place?

  —Tony Soprano, The Sopranos

  Unlike a member of the Mafia, who must follow orders or be killed, as an employee of a company, you can say no to an unethical demand or assignment. You don’t have to deny treatment to an ill person who has no health insurance. You don’t have to pick up the phone and harass an old woman drowning in credit card debt. You can say no. “No” is such a powerful word that Gandhi, a small man dressed in rags, brought the mighty British Empire to its knees by saying it.

  If you’re aware of shady business practices and either look the other way or say to yourself, “I’m just following orders,” tell me, “What the fuck’s the difference?” You’re as guilty as the people you work for.

  We have witnessed a level of obedience to orders that is disturbing. With numbing regularity good people were seen to knuckle under to the demands of authority and perform actions that were callous and severe. Men who are in everyday life responsible and decent were seduced by the trappings of authority.

  —Stanley Milgram, Obedience to Authority

  The ancient playwright Sophocles wrote about two brothers, Eteocles and Polyneices, who fought over a kingdom. After the two knocked each other off, some tough guy named Creon snatched the vacant throne.

  In a show of partiality to Eteocles, Don Creon declared that he was to be honored with all the funeral rites of a hero, while Polyneices was to be disgraced, left unburied on the battlefield to be eaten by vultures.

  Polyneices had a sister, Antigone, who had bigger balls than all the men in the kingdom. In defiance of Creon’s edict, she marched onto the battlefield and buried her brother.

  Furious, Creon had Antigone hauled before him. She valiantly argued that she’d done the right thing by burying her brother and that, if Creon didn’t like it, he could go fuck himself. Enraged, Creon ordered Antigone to be buried alive in a cave.

  Antigone botched Creon’s slow death decree by taking her own life quickly, a final “fuck you” to the disrespectful don.

  In the workplace, there’s no Creon to bury you alive, or Scarfo to whack you. Stand up for what’s right.

  Be an Antigone, not a Pungitore.

  LESSON 24

  Plato—Didn’t He Own a Swingers’ Club?: Be Informed

  ONE day, an older mobster asked me, “You know who Plato was?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “He owned a sex joint in New York.”

  Plato’s Retreat was a New York City swingers’ club that had operated before my time. I’d heard of the place, figured the old man had a piece, and was about to tell me a story. At the time, I had no idea Plato was also an ancient Greek philosopher. This was okay; after all, I wasn’t a philosophy major, but a Mafia minor. On the street, however, it was essential for me to know the history of any person or company I intended to partner with, or shake down.

  I once accompanied a wiseguy to a meeting where he was trying to dig his hooks into a businessman. The wiseguy repeatedly knocked the businessman’s ex-partner, who both agreed was a lazy son of a bitch and didn’t hold up his end of the business.

  There’s a million harmless ways to express the fact that someone is lazy. This wiseguy happened to choose the only word that could have pinched the guy’s nerve. Over and over, he referred to the ex-partner as a cripple. In Mob talk, a “cripple” means a helpless person, someone incapable of earning independently. What the wiseguy didn’t know was that the businessman had a son who had been paralyzed in a childhood accident.

  If, before the meeting, the wiseguy had inquired about the guy’s background, he would quickly have learned to stay away from this distasteful term. (Granted, he should have avoided it anyway.)

  Although the businessman never said so, he was obviously disturbed by the reference, and the deal was blown. He found another wiseguy to partner with.

  Today, it takes a minute to look someone up on the Internet. If you have a mutual friend or acquaintance, inquire; you might learn some personal tidbits, likes or dislikes, hobbies, anything that might help jump-start a relationship—or might torpedo it before it even begins.

  Don’t be lazy. Do your homework. Be informed.

  LESSON 25

  I Want My Fucking Money: Paying Promptly

  ONE of the first things I learned from older mobsters was the importance of paying promptly. Any street guy who jerks people around with money earns a reputation as a deadbeat.

  When I went to prison, I was owed hundreds of thousands, but didn’t owe anyone a nickel because I always paid my debts promptly.

  Even people who eventually pay their debts like to hold on to money as long as possible. My belief is, if you’ve got to give it up, better sooner than later, since you’ll look like a star and stand out above the rest.

  He that is known to pay punctually and exactly to the time he promises, may at any time, and on any occasion, raise all the money his friends can spare.

  —Benjamin Franklin, The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin

  A good name gets around. Everyone will want to do business with you if you pay on time.

  LESSON 26

  Don’t Tip Your Hand: When to Keep Quiet

  DON Carlo Gambino was soft spoken, one of those old-world Mafia dons who sent someone to their grave with a slow nod. In his later years, Gambino shriveled up into a frail old man, and looked anything but dangerous.

  One night, Gambino was dining in a Brooklyn restaurant when a wiseguy named Carmine “Mimi” Scialo began to insult him. Scialo was a feared hit man and figured his violent reputation would frighten Gambino. Gambino took the harassment in silence. The old don would never tip his hand and betray his thoughts.

  The marks of a true Mafioso are that he speaks little, makes each word count, and maintains a grave and dignified presence at all times, even under extreme provocation.

  —Paul Lunde, Organized Crime

  Not long after this incident, Scialo’s body was found encased in the cement floor of a Brooklyn basement. Everyone in the underworld knew that Scialo died for insulting Gambino.

  Seven years later and an ocean away, the Sicilian Mafia was at war.

  A hit man, Pino Greco, gunned down Mafia boss Salvatore Inzerillo. Inzerillo died over a power struggle; little more can be said about the cause of his death. However, the death of Inzerillo’s seventeen-year-old son, Giuseppe, was a very different story. Young Giuseppe died because he tipped his hand.

  At his father’s funeral, Giuseppe openly vowed to avenge his father’s murder. Giuseppe’s threats were not taken lightly. Not long after the funeral, Giuseppe was kidnapped and tortured by his father’s killer. Before putting the teenager out of his misery, Greco sawed off Giuseppe’s arm and taunted him with it, telling the boy he could no longer use that arm to avenge his father’s death.

  [A]n ex-con named Frank Benjamin was heard bragging about how he was going to take out the whole Winter Hill crew. . . . A gunman loyal to Winter Hill shot Benjamin in the head.

  —T. J. English, Paddy Whacked: The Untold Story of the Irish American Gangster

  About seven years after the Inzerillo murders, back on this side of the Atlantic, Mob informant Nicky “The Crow” Caramandi was in the process of testifying in eleven federal trials that ultimately dismantled the Philly Mob.

  The feds were hiding The Crow at a posh condo. Two women, mother and sister of two brothers he was testifying against, spotted The Crow sunbathing by the pool. The Crow, however, did not spot them—until the two women started yelling and cursing at him:

  “You dirty rat bas
tard!”

  “No good stoolie!”

  The Crow took to the air and flew away, never to be seen again. Had the women not tipped their hand, The Crow, or canary, or whatever fucking bird he was, would’ve taken his final bird bath, floating facedown in that condo pool.

  No matter how tempting, don’t tip your hand.

  LESSON 27

  Capone, Harvard, and Yale: The Key to Growth

  AL Capone ordered the deaths of hundreds of men and personally killed a few himself. Yet he allowed the hood who’d made chop suey out of his face to live.

  When Capone was a teen, he hung out at a New York nightspot called the Harvard Inn, owned by mobster Frankie Yale. One night, a street guy named Frank “Galluch” Gallucio was at the Inn, seated at a table with his girlfriend and his younger sister, Lena. Capone spotted pretty Lena and tried to pick her up. Lena wasn’t interested in the chubby, balding, pimple-faced thug, and snubbed him. Capone, not one to give up, kept trying.

  After a while, Galluch kindly informed Capone that Lena was his younger sister and asked him to move on. Capone, young and in need of manners, ignored Galluch and told Lena she had a nice ass. Unfortunately for Capone, Galluch handled a knife like a Benihana chef.

  Capone was rushed to Coney Island Hospital, and “Scarface” was born.

  Surprisingly, Capone didn’t seek revenge. He might have been a wiseass, but he knew when he was wrong. The act of admitting he was wrong, even in his teens, showed early wisdom, the kind of wisdom needed to run Chicago’s underworld and overworld, including a crooked police force and a political machine. Capone had what it took.

  Years later, Al “Scarface” Capone rose to the top of the Mafia’s food chain. As don, he had power over life and death and could have ordered “fried eggs and Galluch” for breakfast. Capone not only spared Galluch’s life, he hired him as a personal bodyguard whenever he visited New York. As further testament to Capone’s character, Galluch trusted him enough to accept the job.