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Text File | 1992-10-19 | 5.2 KB | 118 lines

                                                                                NATION, Page 30

ORGANIZED CRIME

Wanted: A New Godfather


Teflon Don John Gotti turns to Velcro, leaving the powerful
Gambino crime family in disarray

By BONNIE ANGELO


    It was bad luck to be a gangster in New York City last
week. As the jury fore woman chanted the verdict -- guilty of
murder, guilty of racketeering, 13 counts in all -- godfather
John Gotti could only sit with his thin-lipped smile frozen
while the underworld came crashing down around him. In guarded
talks, the Gambino family's second string scrambled to regroup,
shuddering with the knowledge that turncoats were singing, the
feds were listening and more indictments were on the way.

    It was a very good week, on the other hand, to be one of
the U.S. Attorneys or FBI agents who for six years had tried
and tried again to scratch the Teflon Don. Each time the
elusive leader of the nation's most powerful crime family
persuaded the jury he was nothing more than a misunderstood
plumbing salesman. But this time the government's case looked
perfect. The witnesses did not lose their memories on the stand.
The tapes were clear. The underboss spilled the grim details.
The jury was protected. "The Don is covered with Velcro," said
the assistant director of the FBI's New York office, James Fox,
"and every charge stuck."

    Throughout the 10-week trial Gotti gave every indication
that he still believed in his own invincibility. He wore the
trademark suits and helmet of hair like armor, as though his
natty legend would protect him once again. Overflow crowds
craned for a glimpse of him; the tabloids kept up a colorful
commentary, not only on the testimony about loan-sharking,
extortion and murder but also on his choice of neck wear and the
fluff of his pocket handkerchief. In court he made mocking
gestures, blew a kiss at lead prosecutor John Glee son and
growled loudly at U.S. Attorney Andrew Maloney. At one point
Judge I. Leo Glasser threatened to throw Gotti out of the
courtroom.

    It was the judge's conduct of the trial that may give the
defense its excuse for appeal. First, Glasser barred Gotti's
longtime lawyer Bruce Cutler from defending him. Then, in light
of charges that the last two Gotti juries had been tampered
with, he ordered that the jurors remain anonymous, identified
only by number, and sequestered for the duration of the trial.

    The ever indignant lawyers instantly called the trial "a
glorified frame-up" and vowed to appeal. But whatever the
outcome, John Gotti is now an unmade man. Many lower-rung
mobsters did not like his high-profile strutting for the media;
they were especially outraged that it was his right-hand man,
Salvatore "Sammy Bull" Gravano, who delivered up his old mentor,
as well as underboss Frank Locascio. "The safest place for John
Gotti is in jail," observes Michael Cherkasky, head of
investigations for the Manhattan district attorney. Gotti may
hope to run the Gambino operation from prison, as Colombo boss
Carmine Persico, serving 100 years, is trying to do with his
family, but dissension is too strong among the Gambinos.

    For one thing, their empire is under siege from all sides.
The nation's 24 Mafia families, which make at least $60 billion a
year, are a tempting target for the new Asian and Hispanic gangs
that are moving in on their territory. The government has more
big cases in the pipeline. In New York, where the Mob is most
virulent, four of five bosses are in prison or under indictment,
and two more leaders of the Colombo mob were arrested last week
for murder. "Our cup runneth over," exulted Maloney.

    That leaves the remaining capos jockeying for position, a
scramble that began long before the trial was announced. With
such enormous stakes, the godfather race could touch off a
Gambino war. Three candidates lead the field. Capo James "Jimmy
Brown" Failla has a strong track record in running the lucrative
private garbage-carting business, but at 73 he may lack the
stamina for big-time crime. Joseph "Butch" Corrao can cite
success in overseeing gambling, restaurants and loan-sharking
in Manhattan's Little Italy. Then there is John Gotti Jr., 28,
cut from the same cloth as his father but widely disliked. Tommy
Gambino, son of the family's founding father, once seemed a
likely successor, but in February he pled guilty to antitrust
charges and was ordered to abandon the trucking monopoly that
gave the family control of the garment center.

    The toll taken by internal warfare is reflected in the
fading power of New York's Lucchese, Bonanno and Colombo
families. The Genovese family, the Gambinos' rival for power,
has not been as hard hit by internal strife. The Genoveses, with
only 300 soldiers, may find this an ideal time to muscle the
Gambinos out of some of their business.

    Nowhere across la Cosa Nostra is there a leader with the
clout and thuggish charisma of John Gotti. Following the
verdict, Gotti's distraught daughter, Vicki Agnelli, hurled an
angry comment at reporters: "My father is the last of the
Mohicans. They don't make men like him anymore. They never
will." Law-enforcement officials surely hope she is right.