TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/122490/1224106.000

Text File | 1992-08-28 | 5.7 KB | 122 lines

                ⁿÜ                                                          NATION, Page 19

Still the Teflon Don?


John Gotti sees "no problem" beating the rap yet again

By ED MAGNUSON -- Reported by Christine Gorman/New York


    The 15 FBI agents who burst into the Ravenite Social Club,
a red brick Mob hangout in New York City's Little Italy,
apparently surprised John Gotti. But true to his well-polished
celebrity image, the alleged boss of the nation's largest and
most vicious Mafia family quickly regained his composure. After
he was pushed into a car in handcuffs, impeccably dressed as
always (for this occasion, in a double-breasted pinstripe suit
with a bright yellow scarf dangling rakishly from around his
neck), the "Dapper Don" of tabloid fame grinned at reporters
and dismissed his latest arrest with an airy "No problem."

    Given his past record in court, Gotti had good reason for
his bravado. He has beaten federal and state prosecutors in
three trials since 1986, earning the tag "Teflon Don." Basking
in the notoriety gained from his court battles, Gotti has
become a familiar figure at New York City restaurants, where
he has been known to leave $100 bills as tips and to blow
kisses at fellow diners as he departs. Still, the suspected Mob
boss, who was charged last week with murder, racketeering and
tax evasion, just might have a problem this time.

    Arrogance seems to have made Gotti careless. In two previous
trials, prosecutors relied heavily on tapes made from bugs
planted in the Ravenite club, his main Manhattan base. They had
also recorded conversations from his neighborhood headquarters,
the Bergin Hunt and Fish Club, across the East River in Queens.
Although the tapes were so noisy and scratchy that jurors had
great difficulty deciphering the dialogue, Gotti obviously knew
that his haunts were wired. Even a public telephone in one of
Gotti's favorite Little Italy restaurants, Taormina, has a sign
saying, WARNING -- THIS PHONE IS BUGGED.

    Nonetheless, federal prosecutors say they have new and more
damaging recordings of Gotti conversations, once again from the
Ravenite club building. The snooping devices were planted in
an apartment above the club that was used for Mob business.
Gotti, who can afford to hire the best electronic bug-detecting
experts in the city, apparently considered the apartment
secure. But this time, insists James Fox, FBI head in New York,
the recordings are "crystal clear . . . Gotti won't be pleased
when he hears them."

    Like the bugged conversations, the tax-evasion charges point
to a startling degree of carelessness on Gotti's part. The
former head of the FBI's organized-crime office in New York,
Jules Bonavolonta, had made it no secret that he considered
Gotti "the No. 1 target of law enforcement." So how could the
don, who officially claims to be a salesman of plumbing
supplies, have neglected to file tax returns for the past five
years, as the government claims?

    The latest indictment is similar to the one on which Gotti
won an acquittal in 1987. He is accused of heading the Gambino
crime family and, as its leader, of violating the federal
Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Law. But the 11
counts in the new indictment are more serious. He is accused
of taking part in four Mob killings and conspiring to arrange
a fifth. His organization, according to the charges, took part
in illegal gambling, extortion, loan sharking, obstruction of
justice and robbery. Three of Gotti's top aides, including
Thomas Gambino, son of the late Carlo, the Gambino family's
original "boss of bosses," were also indicted.

    Of the four, Gotti alone is charged with masterminding the
most sensational rubout in recent Mob history: the slaying of
Paul Castellano, then head of the Gambino family, by three
gunmen as Castellano left a Manhattan restaurant on Dec. 16,
1985. Gotti has long been suspected of having arranged the hit
so he could take over the family. Police contend that
Castellano did not trust Gotti and was grooming Thomas Bilotti,
his bodyguard, as the next head of the family. (Bilotti too was
killed in the ambush.) While Gotti is not accused of pulling a
trigger, investigators say they have a witness who can place him
near the shooting scene. The prosecutors are also expected to
produce an informer, convicted Philadelphia mobster Philip
Leonetti, to testify that Gotti had bragged about setting up
Castellano's execution.

    As Gotti prepared to spend the weekend in jail while
awaiting a bail hearing, Bruce Cutler, his longtime lawyer,
complained that his client was the victim of a government
"vendetta." With police locking Gotti up "every 10 to 12
months," protested Cutler, he was serving a life term "on the
installment plan" even though he had not been convicted. The
vendetta complaint was an exaggeration. But Assistant U.S.
Attorney John Gleeson, who will prosecute the case, has been
working full-time for five years to get Gotti.

    Actually, Gotti lost frequent clashes with local prosecutors
before he rose to Mob stardom. Between 1963 and 1975 he served
time for car theft, petty larceny, hijacking and attempted
manslaughter. His untouchable reputation began in 1986, when
a man who had earlier accused Gotti of assaulting and robbing
him decided at the trial -- quite prudently -- that he could
no longer identify his assailant.

    Cutler asked the court last week if he could give Gotti a
change of clothes for his next court appearance. Apparently
considering the matter too trivial, the judge made no ruling.
But a spare $1,500 suit was seen in the don's cell. For Gotti,
having to show up in a wrinkled suit might truly be cruel and
unusual punishment.