I Heard You Paint Houses : Frank The Irishman Sheeran & Closing the Case on Jimmy Hoffa

by Charles Brandt

  Control of the president of the Teamsters ensured control of the pension fund and ensured favorable treatment in union contracts. For many years after Hoffa disappeared and after Fitzsimmons stepped down the mob continued to control the office of the president of the IBT by controlling delegates who voted at the election. As late as 1986, Commission member and Genovese family boss, Anthony “Fat Tony” Salerno, was convicted of rigging the election of Teamsters president Roy Williams. The FBI had bugged the Parma Boys Social Club in New York and Fat Tony was convicted with his own words. Frank Sheeran and Fat Tony would be inmates together at the same federal prison hospital in Springfield, Missouri, in the late eighties, when Fat Tony was dying of cancer.

  Also in prison with Sheeran and Fat Tony was a tattooed, muscle-bound, outlaw biker named Sailor. Like Fat Tony, Sailor was dying of cancer, and because he had only a few months left to live he was given a hardship release. According to Sheeran, Fat Tony arranged for $25,000 to be delivered to him on his release. In return for the money Sailor drove to Long Island and murdered a civilian witness who had testified against Fat Tony. While Russell Bufalino had gotten religion at Springfield prison hospital, preparing himself for the next life, Salerno had no such epiphany.

  In 1975, at the time of Jimmy Hoffa’s disappearance, Fat Tony was the boss of the very crime family to which Tony Pro belonged, the Genovese.

  “Frank Sheeran Appreciation Night was October 18, 1974. About six months before my banquet there were some murmurs floating around that Jimmy might not be so good for pension fund loans in the future. This talk was mostly coming out of Tony Pro’s area, because he was campaigning against Jimmy. I talked to Russell about what I was hearing here and there, and Russell said there’s only so much money the Teamsters can lend out, anyway, and pretty soon that well would run dry no matter who was in charge of it. Jimmy was always good to deal with. Russell said there were problems from Tony Pro and some others in Kansas City, but Jimmy had a lot of support from his old friends. Russell was for Jimmy and he told me that after his trial he’d take me to see Fat Tony Salerno, Tony Pro’s boss. Tony Pro had control over two or three locals in north Jersey, but Fat Tony had way more than that as far as influencing delegates.

  Meanwhile, Russell had to win his own trial in upstate New York. A couple of Russell’s people had a cigarette vending machine business there. They were getting a lot of competition from this other company in Binghamton, New York. Russell’s people tried to talk to the two owners of the company in Binghamton about putting some of their profits on the table. The owners of the other company did not go for the idea of making Russell’s people silent partners. Then one night, the two owners of the other company allegedly got worked over. The next thing you know Russell and about a dozen others in his family were arrested for extortion. Some of the ones they arrested got dismissed for lack of evidence, but they took Russell and about half a dozen other ones to trial. I went up to the trial and I sat down in the first row. It was a three-week trial and I sat there every day to support Russell. The jury could see that Russell had friends in the courtroom. On April 24, 1974, Russell and the other ones were all found not guilty. This was the same spring that Jimmy filed his lawsuit. Spring 1974 was a charm for this Irishman’s friends.

  After his victory Russell took me to New York and we met with Fat Tony Salerno at the Vesuvio. Russell and I told him that Tony Pro and Jimmy had a personal beef over Tony Pro’s pension, but that we would appreciate any help Tony could give to Jimmy later on at the 1976 convention. Fat Tony always had a cigar in his mouth. He said he would not stand in Jimmy’s way. He would not try to tell Pro what to do, but he was not with Pro on this issue. Jimmy had done a lot of good in the past.

  Around May or June of 1974 I got a surprise visit at my Local 326 office down by the train station. Who should waltz in but John Mitchell. I didn’t ask the man how he found me or how he even knew who I was. He said he only had a minute and he just wanted to say hello and to tell me that I should “Tell Jimmy I was asking for him. Tell him to just enjoy his pension and play with his grandchildren and to forget about running.” I said, “Thanks for stopping by. Next time I see him I’ll tell him what you said.”

  Meanwhile, things were heating up in Detroit at Local 299. Jimmy’s old pal from the early years, Dave Johnson, was still president. The plan was for Dave not to retire until Jimmy was ready to take over the International. But Fitz was putting pressure on Dave to retire early. That way Fitz could appoint his own son Richard as president of the local. Jimmy needed his own man in there in 299 until he got the restrictions off. When the restrictions came off, Dave Johnson was supposed to appoint Jimmy as a business agent to Local 299. That way Jimmy would be a delegate to the 1976 convention and that would make him qualified under the constitution to run against Fitz for president of the International.

  Dave Johnson started getting hang-up calls at home with people laughing into the phone. Somebody fired a shotgun at the window of his office down at the union hall. About a week before Jimmy lost his first round in court on the restriction lawsuit, somebody blew up Dave’s forty-five-foot cabin cruiser. It was all a message from Fitz and his people.

  Fitz’s son Richard announced that he was gong to run for president of Local 299 against Dave. Richard claimed that Jimmy himself was responsible for the explosion that blew up Dave’s boat. This kind of thing would only make a man like Dave Johnson stronger. Dave was good people. He stayed in there as president and they made a deal and made Richard the vice president. Later on somebody blew up Richard’s car, but Jimmy would never have blown up Fitz’s son’s car. Jimmy wouldn’t want to put his own son on the front line and expose the kid to retaliation.

  Jimmy put the word out that he was going to run no matter what the judges ended up saying. If he lost in his appeal he was just going to defy the restrictions. If they wanted to try to put him back in jail, the ball would be in their court. No matter what, Jimmy was running in 1976. Some people put together an organization called HOFFA, for How Old Friends Feel Active.

  Jimmy was no rat. But Jimmy could puff. Jimmy started saying things like he was going to call in all the bad loans that Fitz, “the fat old man,” had made. A lot of those loans had gone to build casinos for the alleged mob; only under Fitz they were careless with their payments. With Jimmy they always made their payments on the loans. As crazy as it sounds, Jimmy kept saying in public that he was going to expose the alleged mob connections that Fitz had. Jimmy said he was going to expose everything once he got back in office and got his hands on the records. It sounded like Jimmy was going to forfeit some of these loans and take over some of the casinos the way Castro did.

  I kept telling Russell that this was just Jimmy’s way; that Jimmy was only puffing. Russell told me to tell Jimmy to relax and stop drawing attention to his friends. Russell mentioned one time that there had already been all that talk about Jimmy ratting to the McClellan Committee and getting Dave Beck indicted so he could get Beck out of the way and take over. Dave Beck was president of the International just before my time. I didn’t know whether to believe that one about Jimmy or not, but I doubted it. Still, Jimmy was going to have a problem if he kept that loose talk up about exposing his friends.”

  On the campaign trail, Jimmy Hoffa often stung like a swarm of bees. Hoffa was quoted in the news as accusing Fitzsimmons of “selling out to mobsters and letting known racketeers into the Teamsters.” He made bold accusations against Fitzsimmons and organized crime that mirrored the language from Hoffa’s autobiography, scheduled for release six months before the 1976 election: “I charge him with permitting underworld establishment of a union insurance scheme…. There will be more and more developments as time goes on and I get my hands on additional information.”

  To keep his nose clean and to avoid the appearance of having his own conflicts of interest, Jimmy Hoffa negotiated himself out of coal mining interests he had in northeastern Pennsylvania. If he continued to be in a management position as
to the Teamsters who hauled the coal, Hoffa would not appear as lily-white as he needed to appear if he were to continue to sling mud against Fitzsimmons and the “underworld.”

  “They closed the Latin Casino for Frank Sheeran Appreciation Night. The Latin was where I used to go with Skinny Razor and the downtown crowd in the old days on Sunday nights. Frank Sinatra had been a regular performer. They had all the big stars over the years—Al Martino, Dean Martin, Liberace. The same stars that played in Vegas played at the Latin. That was the only nightclub around.

  John McCullough of the roofer’s union had put the banquet together. There were 3,000 people there eating prime rib or lobster and an open bar. It was a Friday night and a lot of the Catholics still ate fish on Friday so they had the choice of lobster, but the prime rib was excellent. The guests included the men from the different Teamsters locals and my old war buddies and some people from management, all kinds of people. The president of Local 676, John Greely, gave me a plaque as Teamsters Man of the Year. John McCullough announced all the high-ups that were in the room and he mentioned all the FBI agents that were outside in the trees with their binoculars. Even if you had a ticket that night you didn’t get in unless you knew somebody. We would refund your money and confiscate your ticket if you didn’t know anybody.

  Jimmy Hoffa was the featured speaker, and he presented me a solid gold watch with diamonds all around it. Jimmy gave a terrific speech telling everybody there what good work I had done on behalf of the working men and women in Pennsylvania and Delaware. Jimmy looked around on the dais and said, “I had no idea you were this strong.” Mayor Frank Rizzo was up there on the dais. Cecil B. Moore, the head of the Philadelphia NAACP, was up there. The former D.A., Emmett Fitzpatrick, was on the dais. The dais was loaded with dignitaries from politics and labor.

  My wife, Irene, and all four of my daughters were there at the front table. My youngest, Connie, was only eleven at the time. Dolores was nineteen. Peggy was twenty-six. Mary Ann was twenty-eight. They all looked very proud of me that night. Jimmy made Irene come up on stage and he gave her a dozen roses. She was embarrassed to go up and he kept coaxing her until she gave in.

  There was a front table off to the right of the table from Irene and my daughters. This was Russell’s table. His wife, Carrie, was the only woman at that table. Dave Osticco and Guf Guarnieri, the high-ups from Russell’s family, were there. Angelo Bruno and a couple of his people were there at Russell’s table. All of downtown was there at another table.

  Russell had bet me that I was going to louse up my speech. I ended my speech by saying, “Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I know I don’t deserve all of this tonight, but I have arthritis and I don’t deserve that either. See, Russ, I didn’t mess up my speech.” Russell waved to me and everybody laughed.

  For entertainment John McCullough had lined up the Italian singer Jerry Vale. He sang all the old Italian songs he was famous for singing, like “Sorrento” and “Volare.” Then he sang some Irish songs that McCullough had put him up to. He did a special number on Russell’s and my favorite song at that time, “Spanish Eyes.” If you didn’t know who was singing you’d think it was Al Martino.

  As part of the show they had the Golddigger Dancers with legs up to their shoulders. They were good-looking girls. Everybody kept kidding me to go up on the stage and mix it up with the dancers. The Latin was packed and they didn’t have a dancefloor or I would have danced with the most beautiful girls in the house, my daughters.

  We all posed for our own photographer that night, and while we were getting our pictures taken Jimmy said to me, “I truly had no idea you were this strong, my friend. I really appreciate all the support you have given me over these years. I’m glad you’re on my side. Frank, when I get back in, you’re going right along with me. I need you around me. If you’ll take the job I’m going to make you an International organizer with an unlimited expense account.”

  “I know you mean it, Jimmy,” I said. “It would be my honor to serve as an International organizer someday.” That would have been my dream come true.

  John McCullough had limos to take my family home and I took Jimmy back to the Warwick Hotel. There was no way I was letting Jimmy go back to his hotel alone in a limo. We didn’t talk about anything important. All our important talking had been done the night before.

  The night before, we had our own private party at Broadway Eddie’s. Broadway Eddie’s was a small bar with a few tables at the corner of Tenth and Christiansen. The bar is still there, but under a different name. That night the bar was closed to the public and you needed a special invitation to get in. My good friends from downtown and from upstate were all there to show their appreciation for Frank Sheeran. Naturally, Jimmy would be at that private affair, too. If anybody had the place under surveillance the whole thing looked like it was built around me. But it was actually put together for a meeting with Russell and Angelo to talk to Jimmy. Russell had asked me if Jimmy would attend a meeting with special friends of mine. Jimmy said, “Is it important to you?” I said, “Yes.” And that’s how the thing at Broadway Eddie’s was set up.

  Jimmy had gotten into Philly from Detroit that afternoon. I guess he flew in, but he didn’t have the private plane at his disposal anymore. Fitz had that. I picked him up at the Warwick Hotel and filled Jimmy in on the meeting Russell and I had with Fat Tony Salerno. Jimmy was happy about that part. We got in my big Lincoln and drove out to Jersey to see John Greely at Local 676. Greely was a Hoffa man, and Jimmy wanted to touch base with him about something. While Jimmy was meeting with Greely I waited outside. Then we went to Broadway Eddie’s

  There were about sixty people at Broadway Eddie’s that night. The only ones who were at a table eating were Angelo, Russell, Jimmy, and me. The rest were at the bar. Trays of food kept coming out of the kitchen for the people at the bar. Jimmy was having spaghetti and meatballs, and I was having raviolis. The four of us were sitting in a row. When you wanted to talk you had to lean out a little bit. Angelo was on the end next to Russell, and Jimmy was between Russell and me.

  Angelo didn’t say anything and I didn’t say anything the whole time. They knew I was for Hoffa. I had Hoffa stickers all over my Lincoln. There was no prolonged conversation about what they were there for. I would imagine Jimmy knew why he was asked to be there, but I don’t know.

  “What do you want to run for?” Russell asked.

  “It’s my union,” Jimmy said.

  “You only have four years to wait. You could run in eighty. That would make sense.”

  “I could run now. I’ve got the people with me.”

  Jimmy wasn’t being fresh, but he was being firm. Russell didn’t say anything about the way Jimmy was campaigning and the things Jimmy was going around saying about the alleged mob. But Jimmy had to know that such talk in public would be of concern to Russell. Jimmy knew about Joe Colombo and the publicity he brought and Crazy Joey Gallo. Jimmy knew how all of Russell’s problems began with the publicity from Apalachin. At least Jimmy should have been wondering what was causing Russell to go from being behind Jimmy and meeting with Fat Tony to help Jimmy in 1976, and now talking this way about things.

  “What are you running for?” Russell said. “You don’t need the money.”

  “It’s not about the money,” Jimmy said. “I’m not letting Fitz have the union.”

  Russell didn’t say anything for a minute. He just ate in silence. People didn’t say no to Russell and he usually never had to ask twice.

  Jimmy said, “I’m going to take care of the people who’ve been fucking me.”

  Russell turned to Jimmy and was now facing Jimmy and me both. “There are people higher up than me that feel that you are demonstrating a failure to show appreciation,” and then he said so softly that I had to read his lips, “for Dallas.”

  Jimmy did not respond to that.

  Russell turned away and made some small talk with Angelo and that meant the meeting was over. We finished eating. I
sat there thinking that this was it. The people had talked among themselves and Russell was now speaking for them, and they were against Jimmy running and Russell was, too. Tony Pro had won the battle for their hearts and minds. I had the feeling that it wasn’t that Jimmy was running that was costing his support among his friends; it was the way he was running.

  I didn’t know how serious it was for Jimmy until Jimmy and I were getting ready to leave. Russell took me aside and said, “Some people have a serious problem with your friend. Talk to your friend. Tell him what it is.”

  “I’ll do my best. You know yourself, Russ; he’s tough to talk to.”

  “He’s got no choice.”

  “Jimmy’s pretty high up himself,” I said.

  “You’re dreaming, my friend. If they could take out the president, they could take out the president of the Teamsters.”

  Jimmy liked the Warwick Hotel. It was around Seventeenth and Walnut, a short ride from Broadway Eddie’s in my Lincoln with the Hoffa stickers. I went up to Jimmy’s room with him to have that talk with him, but Jimmy started talking first.

  “Everybody wants Hoffa to back down. They’re all afraid of what I know. I got a package here I want you to take down to the Market Inn.” Jimmy handed me a small satchel, not too heavy. It had no name on it. Whoever it was for would know enough to come for it.

  “That reminds me, Jimmy,” I said. “I’ve been meaning to tell you this before; Mitchell stopped down the hall last spring and told me to tell you not to run. He said to enjoy your pension and your grandchildren.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me. That fucking Mitchell already told me, ‘Don’t even think about using what you think you know.’”

  “I didn’t know what Russell was going to say to you tonight, Jimmy,” I said. “But I know they mean it, Jimmy. On the way out tonight Russell told me to tell you what it is.”