Mob Rules

by Louis Ferrante

  Orena, a free man during the war, was also a hands-on boss. He was well liked by his men, extremely accessible, and always willing to get dirty.

  While the war was being fought, Orena could have hopped a flight to Bermuda and commanded his forces from a beachfront resort. After all, Persico wasn’t on the battlefield. But everyone knew, including Orena, that Persico would’ve been in the fray if he could have been.

  To compete with a man who had a hands-on reputation like Persico, Orena had to be a battlefield commander. This wasn’t hard for Orena. I knew Little Vic, and it wasn’t in his nature to yell orders from an ivory tower. If Orena was spotted in a tower, it was because he was helping his men pour boiling oil on the heads of invading troops.

  Orena was a hands-on boss who went on missions and slept on floors alongside his men when they went to the mattresses.

  It was a long, hard-fought war claiming many lives. The Persico faction won by default when Orena was captured by the FBI and sent to prison for life. But it could have gone either way, because soldiers are willing to lay down their lives for a hands-on boss.

  Likewise, employees are willing to work harder and longer hours for a hands-on boss.

  Get out there. Meet the people. Visit the stores, the warehouse, the shipping room, and the assembly lines. Shake hands with the cashiers and truck drivers. Put on a pair of Levi’s and get dirty.

  If you plan to compete with companies that have hands-on bosses, you’d better be one yourself.

  Like Persico and Orena, archrivals Napoleon Bonaparte and the Duke of Wellington were hands-on bosses.

  Wellington credited the little Corsican by saying, “[Napoleon’s] presence on the battlefield was worth 40,000 men.”

  Knowing he was confronting an attendant leader such as Napoleon, Wellington also had to be hands-on.

  In being so, he ultimately defeated Napoleon and once remarked about his own success, “The real reason why I succeeded in my own campaigns is because I was always on the spot—I saw everything, and did everything for myself.”

  LESSON 74

  A Tough Guy Has Balls. A Smart Guy Has Crystal Balls: Foresight

  WHILE the early Sicilian Americans, like Maranzano, were closing the doors to outsiders, “Lucky” Luciano had the foresight to see that America was a melting pot and that maximum potential in the rackets would depend on harmonious relationships with other ethnic gangs. As noted earlier, Luciano’s compromise—and every great leader must compromise—was that only full-blooded Italians could be initiated into the borgatas, or crime families. But each borgata was allowed, even encouraged, to work with non-Italians.

  Because of Luciano’s foresight, the Mafia drew scores of talented men who carried them through a prosperous century.

  Meyer Lansky and Bugsy Siegel, two Jews credited with the vision of Las Vegas, were friends with Luciano.

  While the New York and Chicago godfathers recognized Vegas’s massive profit potential and sent henchmen to infiltrate the casinos, Florida boss Santo Trafficante missed the bus. Trafficante thought Havana, Cuba, would be the next gambling hot spot, and dumped his men and money into Cuba’s Riviera Hotel and Casino. It was a fairly safe investment since Trafficante had the dictator of Cuba, Fulgencio Batista, in his pocket. Still, Trafficante hedged his bets, and supplied a young Cuban revolutionary, Fidel Castro, with money and guns just in case Castro seized control of the island, which he did. Trafficante’s vision was dashed when Castro betrayed his Mafia supporters and shut the Mob out of Cuba. Trafficante was detained in a Cuban prison before being deported back to the States.

  Trafficante was not about to lie down. First, he backed the counterrevolutionaries in the hopes of regaining his foothold in Cuba. Realizing this was a long shot, Trafficante made other plans. Here we see the importance of flexibility; if one dream is dashed, dream up another one.

  The Castro revolution created a mass exodus of Cuban exiles. Nearly all the exiles landed in Miami. Trafficante, who spoke fluent Spanish, moved his Tampa-based operation to Miami, planting himself where he imagined the resulting economic boom would take place. In a short time, Trafficante established sole control over Miami’s rackets while the rest of America’s Mob bosses squabbled over pieces of Las Vegas.

  Joe had a genius for seeing something and knowing it would be worth something more later on.

  —Rose Kennedy, describing husband Joe Kennedy, a crooked businessman who made much of his fortune with gangsters

  Trafficante never quit. He also envisioned an increasing number of northern retirees who would flee cold climates and seek the Florida sun to relieve their arthritic bones. What would old fogeys need? pondered Trafficante. Sunglasses? Bermuda shorts? Knee socks and sandals? Hearing aids? Geritol? Depends? We’re getting warm—a hospital!

  Trafficante invested in a hospital.

  Around the same time, Trafficante’s close friend and fellow Mafia don, Carlos Marcello, was in Louisiana buying tracts of cheap land in the path of the Dixie Freeway, hoping to reap windfall profits in federal highway funds.

  Foresight. The best Mob bosses have it. To think ahead of the rest is to think among the best.

  LESSON 75

  Never Underestimate Your Opponent

  RUSSIAN men are tough. Russian women are even tougher. Imagine how tough a Russian gangster is. I’ve known plenty of Russian gangsters, and it’s no wonder to me that the Russians were the first to stop the Nazi war machine in its tracks.

  The Russian-American Mob boss Marat Balagula was one of the toughest old men I’ve ever met. He was also a criminal genius. He partnered up with the Italian-American Mafia in zillion-dollar schemes. He also owned nightclubs and restaurants, even a diamond mine in Africa. (How does a Russian immigrant living in Brighton Beach come to own a diamond mine in Africa? Networking. Don’t forget any lesson in this book.)

  Balagula partnered with the Italians because they were organized and efficient, more so than his fellow Russians, who were busy establishing a tenuous foothold in Brooklyn, a place where the Italians had planted a flag over a century before Russian gangsters arrived. Partnering with Italians was a smart business move on Balagula’s part, but his fellow Russian gangsters felt slighted and left out.

  Vladimir Reznikov was one such Russian, who had set up a Russian-style Murder, Inc. He killed for himself and for others who were willing to pay for his services. A sadist, Reznikov tortured many of his victims. When Reznikov realized the scope of Balagula’s rackets, he wanted in.

  Reznikov introduced himself to Balagula by unloading a machine gun clip into Balagula’s office, killing one of Balagula’s friends. Having left his calling card, Reznikov followed up with a visit to one of Balagula’s nightclubs. Here, he put a gun to Balagula’s head and demanded a piece of every nickel Balagula earned.

  At this point, a muffled explosion went off. It wasn’t a gun, but a fart; Balagula shit his pants. He also suffered a massive heart attack, but he was up and around in no time. The fart aside, Balagula was not one to run, but would fight. He’d prove wilier than the sadistic punk he was up against.

  Balagula wisely told Reznikov whatever he wanted to hear, then visited his business partners, the Italians, and told them what Reznikov did. He added that Reznikov was mouthing off around town, telling anyone who’d listen that the Italians had grown fat and weak, and therefore unable to protect their interests—in this case, Balagula.

  Here’s another excellent example of how history always repeats itself: On the eve of World War II, Japan had come to the same conclusion about the American people as Reznikov had about the Italian-American mobsters. Japanese leaders thought that Americans had grown fat and weak, unable to defend their interests.

  Sure, a fair portion of America was, and still is, fat and weak. A diet of McDonald’s, Dunkin’ Donuts, and the like doesn’t produce svelte athletic types.

  But the young Marines dispatched to defend Guadalcanal and storm the beaches of Iwo Jima were lean, mean, fighting machines. The Japa
nese would eat their words; Reznikov was about to swallow the same meal.

  When Reznikov returned to collect on his first installment from Balagula, a young man by the name of Joey Testa approached him, picking up speed as he walked. Joey wasn’t fat; he was six feet tall, lean and muscular. Joey wasn’t weak; some of the men he’d killed and hoisted into automobile trunks were three hundred pounds of literally dead weight. Joey didn’t scream “Semper fi,” but like the valiant Marines who defended America’s interests abroad, Joey believed in death before dishonor, and was eager to defend the Mafia’s interests in Brooklyn.

  Reznikov never saw it coming. He probably thought he was home free when Balagula stained his underwear. Balagula’s insult was repaid in kind with bloodstains. Reznikov expired on a Brooklyn street, full of holes.

  Never underestimate your opponent.

  LESSON 76

  Who Is Your Opponent?

  IT’S usually apparent who your enemies are; as seen in the last chapter, you must never underestimate them. But what about those people who bide their time, exhibiting unique patience and hiding their ambitions? People you’d never consider opponents? They can be close friends, colleagues, even your number-one employee. How do you distinguish a loyal follower from an opportunist? And how do you neutralize that potential opponent?

  Mafia elder statesman Joe Bonanno, aka Joe Bananas, had been boss of his own borgata for over thirty years when alliances on the Commission began to shift. Fearing those shifting alliances would prove unfavorable to him, Bonanno began to meddle in other families’ affairs, trying to tip the scales in his favor.

  Banana Republic is a nice clothing store, right? Long before the famous clothing store was started, “Banana Republic” was the term the United States government used for South and Central American countries where our CIA propped up leaders in order to control their governments, usually to ensure easy access to a single, lucrative crop, like bananas.

  Joe Bonanno tried to pull off a typical CIA move, propping up another don to make his own Banana Republic out of another crime family. This wasn’t why he was called Joe Bananas, but the name sure fits.

  The other families got wind of Bonanno’s intrigues and threw a monkey wrench into his plan; anyone friendly with Bonanno was vetoed as boss. But Bonanno didn’t back down. Feeling even more threatened and outmaneuvered, he planned to take out the bosses of rival families in one fell swoop.

  Before putting his plan into action, Bonanno approached Joseph Magliocco, his chief candidate for boss of the family he wanted to control. Magliocco was to oversee the multi-hit contract that would elevate him to boss of his own family, but also relegate him to the role of Bonanno’s puppet.

  With dozens of loyal soldiers to choose from, Magliocco passed the contract on to a young follower named Joe Colombo. Colombo came across as a loyal henchman who’d do anything for his boss, but deep down he was burning with ambition. Years earlier, Colombo had displayed his acting ability when he feigned mental illness to get out of military duty. Colombo not only fooled the U.S. military but was such a good actor he snowed both the fledgling statesman Magliocco and the wily old fox, Bonanno.

  Instead of loading up his guns and spilling the blood, Colombo loaded up his mouth and spilled the beans. He went directly to the other bosses and warned them of Bonanno and Magliocco’s plans, requesting, in return for his betrayal, the top spot in his family.

  Colombo was crowned don. Magliocco was happy to escape with his life, but the resultant pressure probably contributed to the massive heart attack that killed him a few months later. Bonanno’s heart was made of stronger stuff; he took it on the lam and defied the Commission.

  Colombo mastered the skills I spoke of earlier in “Why the Chin Wore Pajamas to Work.” But a boss standing close enough to Colombo should have felt the heat from his burning ambition and figured out a way to neutralize him.

  Years after Joe Bonanno retired, his Bonanno family was taken over by Mafia boss Joe Massino.

  Massino had a knack for spotting and eliminating potential opponents.

  Before Massino became boss, he was busy brown-nosing Philip “Rusty” Rastelli, then boss of the Bonanno family. While Rastelli was in prison, Massino became his eyes and ears on the street. Massino wasn’t an Eagle Scout doing an old man favors; he was positioning himself for a grab at the crown when the old man croaked.

  While Massino was baking cookies for Rastelli in prison, other wiseguys in the family were becoming dissatisfied with Rastelli’s prison-based leadership, and decided to speak up. Three powerful capos led the opposition. Instead of a preemptive strike against Rastelli’s loyalists, the three capos were willing to follow Mob protocol and air out their grievances at a sit-down with Massino.

  Massino immediately began to conspire behind the scenes. While the sit was being arranged, he approached other families, asking permission to “protect Rastelli.” Massino acted under the guise of a loyal knight defending his king. In truth, the three capos posed a direct threat to Massino, who couldn’t wait to plop his fat ass on the throne. Massino then held two sits with the capos. At each sit, he humored them for political purposes; nothing was ever settled because Massino was unwilling to budge.

  The third sit planned to resolve the capos’ grievances would be their last. The three unarmed men walked up to the door and rang the doorbell of the 20/20 nightclub in Brooklyn, where the sit was scheduled to take place. They walked inside and greeted Massino, Dominick Napolitano, and Gerlando Sciascia—take note of these last two names; like Massino, they were men burning with ambition.

  Normally, when you enter a home or social club, your host hangs your coat in the closet. But the closet was full—with four masked men armed with machine guns. They burst out, firing at the capos. Suffice to say, Joseph Massino was not a good host.

  After the bodies were zipped up into canvas bags and buried, Massino, Napolitano, and Sciascia all shook hands. Mission accomplished. For now. Remember what I said—Massino had a knack for spotting potential opponents.

  Many of the men who took part in these grisly murders would live out their lives: the shooters, the lookouts, and the burial squad.

  Napolitano, however, was like Massino: an alpha male and charismatic leader. Massino, the master politician, knew it was unacceptable by Mob standards to kill Napolitano for this alone. He’d patiently wait for an opportunity to present itself.

  When Napolitano screwed up by admitting undercover agent Joe Pistone into the Bonanno circle, Massino had the excuse he needed and ordered Napolitano’s murder. When Napolitano’s decomposed body was found, his fingers had been chewed off by wild animals. An appropriate end for a life lived in a jungle.

  Gerlando Sciascia was the other ambitious man who helped Massino murder the three capos. Sciascia made his mistake when he told Massino that another wiseguy, Anthony Graziano, was using drugs, an insinuation that Graziano should be taken care of. Being “taken care of” in the Mob doesn’t mean a reality TV show intervention—crime families don’t tend to be supportive families.

  Massino knew the fine line between a man who thinks he can manipulate the boss and a man who thinks he can be the boss.

  Sciascia’s burning ambition would burn no more. He took three shots to the head, had an eye shot out, and was dumped on the street, like trash.

  This is Joey [Massino] cleaning house.

  —FBI agent Charles Rooney answering FBI director Louis Freeh’s inquiry into the Sciascia murder

  Of the three ambitious men who planned and executed the murders of three other ambitious men, two were dead and Massino was left standing.

  Massino could sniff out a potential opponent, arrange the politics in his favor or patiently await an excuse to act, then strike.

  LESSON 77

  Don’t Shoot a Rising Star: Neutralizing Potential Opponents

  MOB boss Johnny Torrio grew up during the Depression and is credited with starting the Chicago Outfit. At five feet three inches, Torrio proved that a
big brain was far more important than a big body. For the better part of his life, he exhibited the rare ability to use reason in lieu of a gun, and never cheated his criminal partners. “There’s plenty for everyone” was Torrio’s motto.

  Torrio had a gift for organization and was able to mold hoodlums into businessmen. One such hoodlum was the young Al Capone. When Torrio first recognized how smart and ambitious Capone was, he knew he had a problem. It wouldn’t be long before Capone pushed Torrio aside or bumped him off. The usual Mob solution to this dilemma would be to kill Capone first. Didn’t Massino kill every threat around him? But Torrio knew that Capone was worth much more to him alive than dead. What to do?

  Torrio made Capone an offer he couldn’t refuse: a partnership. Now, it may appear that Torrio was giving something up. Quite the contrary. Torrio found in Capone a man with whom he could expand his operations. Moreover, he neutralized a potential opponent. After many successful years together, Torrio retired and left the Windy City to Capone.

  While Capone was in charge, Torrio still visited Chicago, and recommended new ideas. He and Capone became wealthy. Just as Torrio had predicted: “There was plenty for everyone.”

  Like Johnny Torrio, Sam Walton grew up during the rough and tumble times of the Depression. Walton possessed the same skills Torrio had, but applied them to legitimate business. Walton’s first venture was a Ben Franklin variety store. The store was appropriately named since Walton emulated Benjamin Franklin’s wit and wisdom.

  After a successful run, Walton lost his lease for the variety store and had to close down. But Walton persevered, and soon opened another store, Walton’s Five and Dime.

  Like Torrio, Walton wanted to expand his operations. In doing so, he encountered smart and ambitious managers. One such manager was Willard Walker. Using a classic Torrio move, Walton neutralized Walker by offering him a piece of the action. Walker accepted.