Scarfo shared the same sentiment about his partner, Alvin Feldman.
This Alvin Feldman was no fuckin’ good. He called himself the King of the Jews. He had a couple of dirty book stores with my uncle, and the word going around Atlantic City was that Alvin Feldman was going to kill my uncle by putting a bomb in his car. In addition, my uncle knew that he was ripping him off, skimming money from the businesses. This was going on before my uncle went to prison. My uncle used to say he was a “backstabbing cocksucker” but my uncle couldn’t get the okay to kill him because, at the time, Alvin Feldman owed $60,000 to Pappy Ippolito, who was one of Ange’s top guys. Ange told my uncle that once Pappy got his money back, my uncle could have him killed. I remember my uncle saying to me, “I wish I had the $60,000. I’d pay the Jew’s debt to Pappy myself, that’s how bad I want to whack this motherfucker.”
So one day my uncle approached Ange in Yardville and told him he wanted to kill three people. He told him he wanted to kill his two partners in Atlantic City—Tommy Butch and Alvin Feldman—and that he wanted to kill Judge Helfant. After my uncle gave his reasoning for each of the killings and told Ange that he knew Pappy Ippolito had gotten his money back from Alvin Feldman, Ange gave him the okay to kill all three.
Thomas “Tommy Butch” Bucci ran the Penguin Club with Nicky Scarfo in the late 1960s and early ’70s on Atlantic Avenue, near the corner of Virginia in Atlantic City. The lounge, which featured strippers, was considered a “bust-out” joint where the working girls tried to hustle male customers by enticing them to buy overpriced bottles of champagne.
The Penguin Club was a dump, but my uncle was making money there. My uncle was loaning money and making book out of there, but when my uncle went to jail, Tommy Butch stopped paying off the cops and eventually the place got shut down. This made my uncle furious and this is why he wanted to kill Tommy Butch. He would say, “If this cheap motherfucker didn’t stop paying those no-good greedy cocksuckers, I’d still be making money over there.”
Bucci knew that Scarfo would want him dead and within weeks of the Penguin Club closing down, Tommy Butch left Atlantic City and resettled himself in South Philadelphia, working for Funzi and Mark Marconi, two guys that Scarfo knew well. The move would save Bucci’s life.
When my uncle was younger, he and Mark Marconi were the best of friends but they had a falling. It was a big mess and it put a strain on their relationship. My uncle told me, “If Tommy Butch starts coming back down to Atlantic City, I want you to tell the Blade to kill him on the spot. If he stays in Philadelphia, I will leave him alone for now.” This was before the Blade went to jail, probably 1971.
While Tommy Butch got a pass, the King of the Jews wasn’t as lucky.
Joseph Scalleat was a member of our organization who was based in Northeastern Pennsylvania. He was part of Santo Idone’s regime. Joseph Scalleat reaches out to Alvin Feldman and tells him that he wants his help in torching a warehouse in Pennsylvania, and Alvin Feldman goes for it, thinking it’s a score. This guy never turned down an opportunity to make money. My uncle used to say, “This cocksucker is so greedy, he’d kill his own mother for 200 dollars.” So once Scalleat gets Alvin to the warehouse, Santo Idone, Chickie Narducci, and Chickie Ciancaglini run up on him and start roughing him up. Santo Idone grabs him from behind and Chickie Narducci goes to stab him with an ice pick, but Alvin gets away and Chickie ends up stabbing Santo. As Alvin is running away, Ciancaglini grabs him and Ciancaglini is big and is strong as an ox.
The King of the Jews didn’t have a chance.
Chickie ended up killing him with the ice pick while Ciancaglini held him, and they dumped his body down some sort of sewer out in the woods. When my uncle heard the details, he loved it. He said, “I hope the rats in that sewer ate the eyeballs out of his fuckin’ head.”
Eddie Helfant, the third person Scarfo had gotten permission to whack was living on borrowed time, only he didn’t know it.
My uncle decided to wait for the Blade to get out of jail before they would kill him. He wanted to give the Blade the opportunity to kill him himself. When my uncle got out of jail, Judge Helfant came to see him and had concocted some story about the judge in the Blade’s case taking the money and not doing the right thing. My uncle pretended like he bought it, but we knew he was lying. He was no good and my uncle had had enough of him.
But Scarfo decided to lull the unsuspecting Helfant into thinking everyone was okay, that all had been forgotten.
Judge Helfant was having problems with his own indictment for fixing cases and he came to see my uncle for help. He wanted my uncle and Harold Garber to fly down to Atlanta and talk to one of the witnesses about not testifying. So my uncle flies down to Atlanta with Harold and meets with the witness and low and behold, the guy doesn’t want to testify and now Judge Helfant might actually beat his case. So one day I’m having lunch with my uncle at the Madrid, Chuckie and Lawrence were with us, and Lawrence says, “Nick, why would you go all the way to Atlanta to help this guy, after everything he has done.” So my uncle says, “I don’t want him to go to jail, I want to kill him.” That’s the extent that he went to to set the trap for this guy. Like Louis DeMarco and Pepe Leva, Judge Helfant never saw it coming.
Loud and boisterous and somewhat tipsy, Helfant was in good spirits as his legal team expected to win a motion to dismiss his indictment in two days, thanks to Nicky Scarfo’s recent trip to Atlanta, ending what had been a decade-long fight by prosecutors to put the crooked judge in jail.
Eddie Helfant was sitting on top of the world.
He had less than 30 seconds to enjoy the view.
Judge Helfant, his wife, and another couple were sitting at a table. The Muhammad Ali–Leon Spinks fight was showing on a closed-circuit television behind them. As the snow fell on this cold February night, no one thought anything of the tall and somewhat lanky man who walked into the Flamingo with a snow shovel in his right hand and wearing a black ski mask. The man placed the snow shovel near the door and moved swiftly toward the judge’s table, which had been pinpointed moments earlier by a spotter, who relayed the information to the man with the shovel.
The lounge was packed and dimly lit and no one seemed to pay attention to the man in the ski mask swiftly approaching the judge’s table.
That was about to change.
Placing his left hand on the back of the man seated at Judge Helfant’s table, the man in the black ski mask raised his right hand carrying a .38 caliber handgun and a six-year-old grudge and fired four shots at his target, one in the head and three in the chest, as his wife shrieked in horror.
The judge was dead before his body crumbled to the floor.
The man in the black mask calmly walked through the lounge toward the door and back out into the Flamingo’s parking lot, the same lot where Judge Helfant had broken up the fight between Philip Leonetti and Pepe Leva. Now, less than a year later, both Pepe Leva and Judge Helfant were dead. And the man in the black mask, Nicholas “Nick the Blade” Virgilio, fresh out of jail after serving six years, had gotten his revenge.
As the Blade walked the escape route from the murder scene at the Flamingo, his old friend Nicky Scarfo was parked in a predetermined spot to drive him away just as he had done when Philip Leonetti and Vincent Falcone killed Louis DeMarco less than five blocks away three years earlier.
This was big, big news in Atlantic City and Philadelphia. The fact that a judge got killed—it made all the papers. Everyone was talking about it. The mob guys in South Philly and up in North Jersey knew it was us and a lot of the guys in New York took notice. My uncle loved the attention, especially the fact that other mob guys were talking about how ruthless we were. He would say to me, “We can hold our head high when we are around our friends,” meaning other mob guys and other Families, “because everyone knows who we are and what we are, and there ain’t too many guys out there like us.”
My uncle saw himself as an old-school gangster, even though by this time he wasn’t even 50
years old. He looked up to the old-time guys, the Capones and Lucianos and especially the killers, like Skinny Razor. And he was right; there wasn’t too many guys like him in La Cosa Nostra. In fact, I don’t think there was anyone who enjoyed killing as much as he did except maybe the Blade.
But the Blade wasn’t all bad. He had a good side when he wasn’t drinking or killing people. There was this kid who was around at that time who we called Bidda-Beep. He was a bookmaker and he was a good kid, he didn’t bother anybody. He used to go to Harry the Hat’s coffee shop and play cards and some of the older guys in there used to cheat him and take his money because he didn’t know how to play all the games. They were hustling him. I guess the Blade had heard about it and one day when Bidda-Beep was playing cards in the coffee shop, who comes walking in but the Blade. Everyone in that shop knew who he was and that he was a serious, no-nonsense guy who was a killer and was around me and my uncle.
The Blade goes over to Bidda-Beep and taps him on the shoulder and says, “Let me play your hand.” Bidda-Beep has no idea what’s going on, but what’s he gonna do, say no to the Blade? So he jumps up and the Blade sits down and tells the guy dealing to deal the cards. The guy deals and the Blade never turns his cards over and looks around the table at every one of the guys who had been robbin’ Bidda-Beep and says, “I won; deal another hand.” The dealer deals the next hand and the Blade does the same thing, he never looks at his cards and he says, “How ’bout that, I won again, deal another hand.” This went on for almost an hour. He took every penny off of those guys, several thousand dollars, and handed it all to Bidda-Beep. No one ever cheated him again.
The Scarfo gang was now thriving in Atlantic City, but things in South Philadelphia were going from bad to worse for Scarfo’s boss, Angelo Bruno.
Losing Control
IN 1979, CASINO GAMBLING WAS IN FULL SWING AND ATLANTIC CITY WAS IN THE MIDST OF A COMEBACK. REAL ESTATE DEVELOPMENT WAS THRIVING AND CONSTRUCTION WAS BOOMING.
So were traditional mob rackets like bookmaking, loan sharking, and extortion. Nicky Scarfo and his crew had positioned themselves to cash in on all of it.
While things were looking up for the Scarfo crew in Atlantic City, longtime Philadelphia mob boss Angelo Bruno was slowly starting to lose control of the crime family he had overseen since 1959.
When Ange became boss, he aligned himself and the Philly mob with the Gambino family in New York. Ange and Carlo Gambino, the boss of the Gambinos, were very close and had worked together as bootleggers when they were younger. Carlo Gambino had used his influence on the Commission to help Ange win the dispute with Mr. Miggs, and that’s how Ange became the boss and he remained loyal and indebted to Carlo Gambino. At the time, the Gambinos were the most powerful family in La Cosa Nostra and Carlo Gambino, who was known as Don Carlo, was the il capo di tutti capi, the boss of all bosses, who sat at the head of the Commission.
But in 1976, the 74-year-old Gambino would die from a heart attack and almost overnight it seemed that Angelo Bruno’s power began to wane.
Around this time Angelo Bruno and Phil Testa started having problems with each other. Ange was the boss and Phil Testa was the underboss, but they were at odds about money and how to run the family. Ange was more of a white-collar guy and Phil Testa was a blue-collar guy, a street guy, so they both had different philosophies. There’s an old saying that Sicilians love their money more than they love their children, and that they really love their children. With the Sicilians, it always came down to money and both Ange and Phil Testa were hardheaded Sicilians. We called them siggys, which is slang for Sicilian.
So one day, we’re at the office on Georgia Avenue and Ange comes down to see my uncle. It was in the summer and Ange used to have a home in Ventnor. Sometimes when he was down, I would be his driver. Ange knew that my uncle was 100-percent La Cosa Nostra, that he knew all the rules, all the moves, and knew all the angles better than some guys who had been around this thing for 50 years. He knows that there was no bullshitting my uncle. You had to always give it to him straight. He got to know my uncle real well when they were in Yardville together and me as well. We had already done the DeMarco hit for Chickie Narducci and Chickie was one of Ange’s top guys, one of his top earners. He, too, was a hardheaded siggy.
At the time Chickie Narducci was also having problems with Phil Testa.
So Ange comes in and says, “Nick, you know that me and Phil Testa are having problems and I just wanted to see what side you were on.”
Now here’s the boss of the family and coming to see us about a problem he was having with the underboss. That’s how far we had come. Angelo Bruno was the guy at my great-grandmother’s wake, the guy I thought was the president when I was seven years old, and now he’s coming to see us because he needs our help. He told my uncle that if you come with me and be on my side, it will be $1,000 per week for you, and the kids—meaning me, Lawrence, and Vince Falcone—would make $500 per week. Ange was trying to get us lined up against Phil Testa so that they could take him out and make Chickie Narducci the underboss. My uncle listens to all of this and says to Bruno, “What do you mean what side am I on? This is una familia, one family. Let me think it over.”
My uncle always told me, “It don’t matter what the guys in South Philly say, it matters what the guys in New York say, because only they can make or break a boss.” That’s something that Skinny Razor had taught him way back in the ’50s, and he never forgot it. Now around this time my uncle and I were going to North Jersey quite a bit and spending time around guys like Caponigro and Bobby Manna, and getting their take on things. My uncle was a great listener and had an ability to get people to say more than they should. When we’d come back, my uncle would say, “If you wanna know what you’re lookin’ at, you gotta look at the whole picture, otherwise what’s the fuckin’ point?” What he was saying was that there was more goin’ on then we were aware of with this beef between Ange and Phil Testa, and with my uncle. He always got to the bottom of things before he made his move.
Nicky Scarfo, the boss of the family’s Atlantic City operation knew from his one-on-one meetings with Antonio “Tony Bananas” Caponigro, the boss of the family’s North Jersey operation, that Bruno was quickly losing his grip over the North Jersey faction of the family.
Scarfo also confirmed this in his private meetings with Bobby Manna, his old pal from Yardville, who told him that Bruno’s days as boss might be numbered.
My uncle would always check things out, and if there was a way to double-check, he’d double-check. He always knew what everyone else’s moves were gonna be before he made his move. He’d say, “In this thing, in La Cosa Nostra, if you go off half cocked, you end up with this,” and he made the sign of the gun.
Scarfo’s separate meetings with Caponigro and Manna, and his belief that Bruno was a sinking ship—more so than his loyalty to Phil Testa—were the reasons for Little Nicky to turn down Bruno’s request.
So about a week or so later Ange comes around and him and my uncle go outside for a walk and talk up Georgia Avenue towards the Madrid. I’m walking a few feet behind them. I had a pistol on me. I’m keepin’ an eye out for the law and anyone who may have tried to hit either one of them. I remember things were tense in the family at this time and everyone was on edge. I hear my uncle say, “Listen, Ange, this is una familia, I’m not on anyone’s side. I know Phil a long time and I’m friends with him and I know you a long time and I’m friends with you. I know you guys will eventually work things out.” So basically my uncle told him, no. He turned Ange down and Ange wasn’t happy.
Scarfo’s refusal to side with the boss in his dispute with Phil Testa did not sit well with Bruno, but Scarfo’s decision was carefully measured.
You have to understand our family, the Philadelphia mob, controlled Philadelphia, Trenton, Atlantic City, North Jersey, and all points in between. Bruno was the boss of the family and Testa was the underboss, but they were both in South Philadelphia. My uncle was the boss of Atlantic
City and Caponigro was the boss of North Jersey. My uncle and Caponigro were very much alike, in the sense that they were both killers, that they both had strong crews, and that they both had strong connections to New York.
I remember as Ange was driving away, my uncle told me, “I think Lefty’s got some trouble coming his way and when it does, he ain’t gonna know what the fuck hit him.” As he was walking away he said to me, “Always watch out around these siggys; we can’t trust ’em, they’re not like us. The only things on their brain are greed and treason.”
As 1979 was drawing to a close, Angelo Bruno had been the undisputed ruler of the Philadelphia mob for two decades. Nicknamed the Docile Don, Bruno was an underworld diplomat who preferred a conciliatory approach to dispute resolution, a sentiment not shared by his subordinates in Atlantic City, namely Philip Leonetti and Nicodemo Scarfo, and his consigliere, Antonio “Tony Bananas” Caponigro, based out of Newark.
In La Cosa Nostra, you’re either a racketeer or you’re a gangster. Ange was a racketeer; we were gangsters. My uncle started sensing things changing with him and Ange after he turned him down on the thing with Phil Testa. My uncle started called Ange, Lefty, because he started throwing curveballs at us. My uncle would come back from a meeting and say, “Lefty threw us another curve,” little stuff like that. I know that at the time Chickie Narducci was in Ange’s ear, talking subversive about Phil Testa. You see Chickie Narducci was an earner, a multimillionaire. But he wanted power; the money wasn’t enough for him. He wanted Ange to make him the underboss so that he could take over the family when Ange retired. It was just like my uncle said with the siggys; it was always greed and treason. They were treacherous people by their own nature, my uncle would say, “It’s in their fuckin’ blood.”
Mafia Prince: Inside America's Most Violent Crime Family Page 7
