“I finally came to the conclusion that I should open my own business. That would eliminate having to pass the scrutiny of potential employers who would be skeptical of hiring a thirty-five-year-old man with no work history or references. The only obstacle was money.
“I didn’t have unlimited financial resources available to me any longer. In my previous life, I always had a stash I could go to when needed. But those days were gone. I was now Joe Citizen dropped from the fuckin’ sky to the Midwest with no history or money. I still didn’t let that stop me. After some intense thought, I came up with what I thought to be the monster plan. I’d always loved to cook and that was the one thing I could do that was legitimate. So I decided to open a pizza restaurant.
“Like a sign from above, the very next day I saw an ad in the paper for a restaurant for sale. When I called to get the information, the guy on the other end of the line offered to practically give me the place. It turned out he was a real estate-agent who owned the restaurant and several other properties. He wasn’t interested in the business at all. His previous tenant had walked out and left everything. He wanted to either sell the building or have someone take over the lease. So we made a great deal that benefited both of us. I signed a lease to take over the business and would make monthly payments to purchase the equipment.
“When I think back on it now, it’s kind of funny. There I was in parts unknown trying to bring the flavor of Italy to these people who thought Olive Garden is gourmet Italian food. It was interesting, to say the least. Almost as soon as I opened the shop, business started booming. I knew I was a good cook. But not good enough to account for the lines of customers I was getting. And then it hit me like a shot. It wasn’t just my cookin’ that was bringing people in. They were coming to see the show. I was like a circus act. My accent and sense of humor drew them like flies.
“All day long I’d hear, ‘I love your accent. You’re not from here. I bet you’re from New York.’ My response was always the same. I’d smile and say I knew it wasn’t my accent that gave me away, it was my complexion. The customers always burst out laughing like it was the funniest line they’d ever heard. I didn’t care what they thought. I was making great money. And it was all legal.”
But over time, some of the locals became suspicious of the stranger. Who was he, really? What brought him to their town? What did he do before he came there? When Andrew failed to satisfy their curiosity, some people provided their own answers. Maybe he was really a drug dealer. Or perhaps the pizza joint was being used to launder money for the Mob. The rumors swirled. Andrew wasn’t bothered by them, though. In fact, he thought they were funny.
Although he was suspected by some of being involved in criminal activity, he hadn’t reverted to that part of his past life. However, the new Andrew had retained the temper of the old one. And he put that emotion on display one afternoon when his eatery was filled with customers.
“A lady called to order a pineapple pizza. I explained to her that we used only authentic Italian toppings and pineapple wasn’t one of them. I told her the options. She picked one and my driver delivered it. A while later, her husband walked in with the pizza box and slammed it on the counter. He looked like a real farmer trying to play tough guy. He told my counter man that the pizza wasn’t what his wife wanted to order. She’d been forced into taking something else and he wanted his money back.
“I walked over to him and said, ‘Listen to me and listen good. Don’t come into my place barkin’ orders and actin’ tough. If you say one more word, I’m gonna put your fuckin’ head in that oven. Here’s your ten bucks. Now get the hell out while you still can. And don’t come back.’ He backed out the door and I never saw him again.
“After he left, you could have heard a pin drop in the place. I glanced around and every eye was on me. I told them the show was over and to get back to their food. They immediately started looking at their plates.”
Such incidents were the exception. For the most part Andrew had a lot of fun running the restaurant. And he made some good money. He lived alone in a nice three-bedroom apartment and was able to buy a brand new Cadillac.
Even though he was enjoying himself and making money, Andrew just wasn’t a small-town guy. He found living in a Mayberry-like community to be a bit suffocating. It was only a matter of time before he moved on. The following year, citing a drop in business, he relocated to a more heavily populated area.
Although Andrew had failed to take root in his first attempt, he did accomplish a very important thing. He proved to himself that he could be successful in a legitimate business. And he also proved it to those who had predicted he would return to a life of crime before the ink on his parole papers had dried. The fears he’d experienced before being released from prison were gone, replaced by a growing confidence. He didn’t need to have a gun in his belt to survive. He was at peace with himself.
While Andrew was experiencing peace, some of his former associates were feeling something else: heat. For them, the chickens were coming home to roost. The next several months wouldn’t be good ones for Nicky Corozzo and his pals.
23
A Court Date Nears
After leaving the Midwest, Andrew took up residence in the Northwest. His new location was more densely populated and he enjoyed the hustle and bustle that reminded him of his days on the streets of New York City.
After settling in, Andrew continued his self-employment. He bought a delivery truck from the profits of his pizza restaurant and became an independent driver for a major bread distributor. He worked the graveyard shift and was home by seven o’clock most mornings. For the most part, he was his own boss and the money was good.
But it wasn’t long before the distributor began calling during the day to have accounts replenished or make sales calls on potential customers. Andrew worked on a percentage basis of sales and didn’t feel these extra hours did much to increase his checks. In his opinion, the distributor was the only one to really benefit.
“Here’s an example,” Andrew says. “I’d been home about two hours after working a ten-hour shift. I was just getting to sleep when the bakery called. They wanted me to come back in to deliver ten loaves of bread to a store downtown. Do the math. That was about a twelve-dollar order and I only got a percentage of it. In addition to the time involved, there was the cost of fuel to run the truck back and forth. So a run like that would have taken me a couple of hours and ten bucks or so in gas to make two dollars and forty cents.
“When I started getting calls like that on a regular basis, I knew this wasn’t the right business for me. This guy was a millionaire and I could understand why. He was an arrogant bastard and he thought because he gave me a paycheck, he was entitled access to me any time of the day or night. If I’d have run into him a few years earlier, I’d have found a way to shake him down. But I was a gentleman. I told him I needed to move on and asked him to buy my truck. I sold it to him the next day.”
After quitting the bread route, Andrew turned to something he was more familiar with. He opened an Italian deli and restaurant. He was back in his element.
“The concept was great. And a large Italian population from back east was eager for the Italian delicacies I offered. But my place was in a new mall with a lot of spaces that hadn’t been rented yet. That meant almost no foot traffic or other businesses to draw customers from. After about a year and a half, I had to give it up.”
From time to time, Andrew read or heard news about some of his former acquaintances. The first of them to come to his attention was a newspaper report that his friend and fellow Gambino man Sal Mangiavillano had become a government witness.
“Fat Sal and me had been friends since I was about seventeen years old,” Andrew said. “And later on in my criminal career when I was on the run, Sal and his crew took me in and helped me earn. He was a true friend and a mentor to me. Sal was a prolific bank robber and opened my eyes to a lot of things. I ended up having closer friendships with Sal and hi
s guys than I did with my own Corozzo crew.
“The article told how Sal had been mistreated by the Gambinos just like I had. He’d been sent to Arizona by Peter Gotti to kill Sammy Gravano. The hit never came off and when Sal got back to New York, he was arrested and locked up on other charges. For two years, nobody from the Gambinos paid any attention to him. And then when word got out that the feds were looking to indict some people for the plot against Gravano, the boys suddenly remembered Sal.
“The bastards wanted to keep Sal on the reservation, so they sent him a letter saying they were thinking of him. And with the letter was a check for fifty dollars. Fifty fuckin’ dollars! These goddamn millionaires had the balls to send Sal fifty bucks to keep his mouth shut. It didn’t work. Sal flipped and gave up the whole Gravano deal. I was glad to see he’d done the right thing. And again, the guys who went down only had to look in the mirror to see who was to blame.
“The way they handled me, Sal, and a lot of others is the reason the Mob is in the shape it is today. You can’t treat your people like shit and expect them to take it on the chin for you. Loyalty has to work both ways. The current bosses in the American Mafia don’t understand that. They take the guys on the street for granted. To them, guys like Sal and me are expendable. But they’re finding out that we can fight back. And as far as I’m concerned, they’re getting what they deserve.”
While Andrew was adapting to his new life and hearing news about some of his former friends and associates, the wheels of justice were moving slowly forward.
In March 2004, Nicky Corozzo made the news. Just months away from his scheduled release from prison on his 1996 racketeering indictment and subsequent conviction, the word circulated that the feds had come up with information tying him to the 1992 shooting of Guardian Angels founder Curtis Sliwa and two unsolved gangland murders.
According to published reports, in April 1996 FBI agents had heard Corozzo admit to a wired informant that in 1985, he’d feared for his life after John Gotti took control of the Gambinos from the slain Paul Castellano. But in late 1996, as the Dapper Don languished in prison and his appeals were exhausted, Nick was tapped by family capos to replace Gotti as the boss. His reign lasted only a matter of days and came to an end with his arrest in Florida and incarceration on the racketeering indictment. To the government, Nick was the kind of guy they would just as soon keep behind bars if they could.
Corozzo’s pending legal problems reportedly dated back to 1992, when he became a confidant of John Gotti, Jr., who had assumed the role of acting head of the family following his father’s conviction and life sentence.
Government prosecutors allegedly had information that Nick had assisted the younger Gotti in his plan to kill Sliwa by providing the triggerman, Mike Yannotti, to carry out the hit. The feds also believed that in January 1996, Yannotti gunned down two men on a Brooklyn street over a drug dispute and that Nick Corozzo authorized the killings. The two dead men were Andrew’s friend Robert Arena and Thomas Maranga.
Corozzo’s attorney responded to the reports by denying that his client had anything to do with drugs or the murders.
But it turned out that the government wasn’t ready to move against Nick Corozzo at that time. He was released from prison in June and returned to the position of capo in the Gambino family.
In July 2004, John Gotti, Jr. and three others were indicted on racketeering charges. The underlying crimes included murder, attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, kidnapping, and conspiracy to commit kidnapping, conspiracy to commit securities fraud, mail fraud, wire fraud, extortion, and illegal gambling. The kidnapping and attempted murder allegations had to do with the 1992 attack on Curtis Sliwa.
Gotti’s co-defendants were alleged Gambino crime-family soldiers Joseph “Little Joey” D’Angelo and Michael “Mikey Y” Yannotti and family associate Louis “Louie Black” Mariani.
Andrew followed these stories with great interest. Cases were moving forward and he would most likely have to appear in court as a government witness in the not-too-distant future.
24
The Junior Gotti and Mike Yannotti Trial
On August 8, 2005, the trial of John Gotti, Jr., and Mike Yannotti began in U.S. District Court in Manhattan with Judge Shira Scheindlin presiding. In his opening statement, Gotti’s lawyer, Jeffrey Lichtman, made clear what he thought of several of the names on the government’s witness list. He described them as turncoats and violent manipulative creeps. One of the witnesses he was referring to was Andrew DiDonato.
Andrew was flown back to New York and took the stand on August 11. For the first time in years, he would be eyeball to eyeball with Mike Yannotti. It was a time he’ll never forget.
“The day I landed in New York, I was immediately taken to the United States Attorney’s office where I met with prosecutors. They informed me I’d be called to testify in a matter of hours. Needless to say, I was immediately tense. I knew my testimony would take many hours—I was actually on the stand for three days—and those hours would feel like an eternity. My whole life was going to be an open book for the world to see. My entire criminal history would be put under the microscope for the defense attorneys to pick apart like vultures.
“When I entered the courtroom for the first time, it was dead quiet. After being sworn in, I sat in the witness chair and was face to face with Junior Gotti and Mike Yannotti. It had been a long time since me and Mike had been that close. Our eyes locked on each other and I sensed he held a glimmer of hope that I would remember all those years we were in the trenches together and find a way to hold back what I knew—to spare him. But it was much too late for that. And as I looked at Junior, it wasn’t hope that I saw in his eyes. It was fear.
“The entire first day I spent on the stand was under direct questioning from the prosecutor. We pretty much touched on my entire crime history, my relationships within the Gambino family, and my crimes with Yannotti and the Corozzo crew. That day opened up many old wounds. As the prosecutor walked me down memory lane, he brought out all the devastation I had caused over the years, the harm I’d done for my own personal gain, and for the benefit of the Gambino crime family.
“As I recounted crime after crime, I saw Mike squirming in his chair like a school kid waiting for the recess bell to ring so he could run from the classroom. As for me, for a long time I’d wondered if I’d really be able to testify when the time came. Would I be able to tell it all honestly and coherently? Or would I stumble and come across as a liar or an idiot? But any doubts passed quickly and I found no hesitation in my answers. I think knowing that I was doing the right thing kept my words flowing smoothly.
“I was called upon to listen to a number of audiotapes the government had acquired during their investigation. On them Mike discussed his involvement in the loanshark business. The prosecutor had me explain in layman’s terms what Mike meant when he used certain words and phrases. The defense objected to that testimony, but the judge allowed it. It wasn’t real exciting stuff, like doing murder. But I felt at the time those tapes and my explanation would lead to Mike’s downfall.
“I truly believe that a mobster and the truth cannot share the same space. With each word that came from my mouth, I could see Mike becoming more and more uncomfortable, especially when I dropped the bombshell of my knowledge of the deaths of Robert Arena and Thomas Maranga. I also gave testimony about another homicide—Todd Alvino—that sent the defense team reeling and shouting objections. They were upset because the Alvino killing was not part of the original indictment and it would spell even more trouble for Mike.
“With so much on the table, the judge immediately had the jury removed from the courtroom, so I could be questioned in more detail about the new homicide. After ten minutes, it was perfectly clear to everyone in the room that my knowledge and deep involvement in the Alvino thing was real. But the judge ended up ruling that the prejudicial effect of that testimony was too great and wouldn’t allow it in. But she said her decision didn’t
mean it couldn’t be used in a future case. I believe in my heart that Mike thinks about that every day of his life. Knowing that someday him and me might be back in court again with me on the witness stand and him at the defense table.
“After hours of direct testimony, much of which was objected to by the defense, it was clear that my information had done a couple of very important things for the government. It established that the Gambino crime family was an organization—a corrupt organization. It had structure and a chain of command. It made money from the criminal activities of its members.
“It also exposed Mike’s involvement in many crimes, including shaking down drug dealers and shylocking. Many of those crimes I had been directly involved in and others I had knowledge of. And it left no doubt that most, if not all, of our criminal acts were for the sole purpose of trying to advance ourselves within the ranks of the Gambino crime family. The basis for the racketeering charges against Mike was set.
“As these things played out in the courtroom, I kept a cool head, knowing that this was only the direct testimony and things would start really heating up the next day when the defense tried to discredit me and my testimony.”
Andrew’s concerns were well-founded. When the defense got their chance at him, they attacked with a vengeance.
“Now it was the defense’s turn to try and get Mike out from under the damage my testimony had done,” Andrew recalls. “Mike’s chief lawyer was Diamuid White. But White didn’t cross-examine me; they had another guy do that. He started out the way I figured he would, pointing out to the jury my life of crime and all the despicable things I’d done over the years. How could anyone believe me today?
Surviving the Mob Page 22
