Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 36, No. 6, June, 1975

The Devil and Carlo Gambino by David Mazroff

From stowaway to Godfather of the Mafia, Carlo Gambino’s rise to black fame in the dread annals of Organized Crime followed a trail of terror and death. Long after his blood buddies were laid in their well-deserved graves, Gambino lives on; a monument to shrewd survival in a world of his own ungodly making!

The godfather of the Mafia, Carlo Gambino, arrived in this country as a stowaway on an Italian freighter. When the ship docked in Norfolk, Virginia, he dashed from it in the middle of the night and made his way to friends who were awaiting him.

At the time, he was twenty-one years old, a heavy-set young man, five feet seven inches tall and weighing two hundred pounds.

He was only one of many men who came to this country from Italy and Sicily, some through Canada and Mexico, others by way of New Orleans, and still others as he had come, through various ports of coastal cities in America, all of them filtering in to be enlisted in the different mobs as musclemen.

There was nothing about Carlo Gambino in December, 1921 that justified the premise that one day he would become the most powerful man in the underworld. Just off the boat, he was uncouth, uneducated, and lacked the kind of organizational ability of a Johnny Torrio, Al Capone, Lucky Luciano, or Lepke Buchalter.

He did possess an uncanny shrewdness, innate intelligence, and a demeanor so benign as to give him the appearance of being an innocent in a jungle of foxes and wolves. His appearance fooled many men: He was hard as carbonized steel underneath.

Gambino’s first job was as a warehouse worker for a trucking firm operated by his first cousins, Paul and Pete Castellano. In the custom of many of the Italian and Sicilian members of the mobs, Gambino married Vincenza Castellano, sister of Paul and Pete.

The marriage gave him a little clout in the organization. He was aided in his climb up the ladder, a little at a time, not only by the Castellanos but by many of their associates because he was in the family.

He earned a reputation quickly for efficiency in the many different tasks he was assigned, some of which required muscle and others merely persuasion. He was soft-voiced, gentle in his approach.

“There are so many young hoodlums around,” he would say to a store owner. “They break windows in the stores, steal merchandise right under your nose, drop those nasty stink bombs, yes? Ah, but we will protect you from all that. We pass the word to these young hoodlums that it would be bad for them to molest you.”

The proprietor of the store got the idea, however soft Gambino’s voice. If the price Gambino asked was a little too high to pay then he was not above negotiating and coming to terms. However, an outright refusal to pay tribute resulted in immediate violence.

That was his way, and only the most foolhardy learned by experience that Gambino’s gentle approach was not a sign of weakness, but a mere prelude to destruction of business and person.

Gambino came to the attention of Lucky Luciano at a time when Luciano was plotting the murder of Joe “The Boss” Masseria in order to take over control of the mob. Luciano sent for Gambino and made him a member of the family.

Thus Gambino came into contact with many of the hoods who were to rise high in the hierarchy of the Organization, as it was often referred to by various members of the crime cartel. Among them were Meyer Lansky, Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel, Vito Genovese, Albert Anastasia, Frank Costello, Joe Adonis, and the two bosses of Murder, Incorporated, Louis “Lepke” Buchalter and Jake “Gurrah” Shapiro.

Gambino watched, listened, and learned.

During the gang wars between Joe “The Boss” Masseria and his arch rival Salvatore Maranzano, Gambino was the least known of all the “soldiers” in the Masseria camp. This inconspicuousness was a matter of choice.

Gambino followed orders, concentrated on his own little rackets, prudently saved his money so that he might invest in bigger legal and illegal enterprises. But more than anything else in his plan to achieve a higher place in the scheme of the Organization, he avoided friction with everyone. When Joe “The Boss” Masseria was murdered and Luciano took over the mob he called Gambino in for a talk.

“Carlo, I have been following your operations for some time now. I know all about your three handbooks.” Luciano shrugged. “Small time, true, but it tells me you know how to do things. I know, too, that you have been peddling moonshine liquor that you buy for five dollars a gallon and sell for twenty to about two or three dozen private customers, a sort of house to house deal.”

Luciano nodded. “That’s pretty smart. No payoffs to anybody, just a nice neat profit of maybe a grand or two a month, right? Well, you can keep all those little rackets you’ve got. You’re not interfering with any of the Organization’s operations, which means you’re not stepping on anybody’s toes. However, you’re a loner in all this. If anyone wanted to muscle in on you for a piece of the action you would have no comeback. You couldn’t come to me because what you’re doing is strictly a personal business. So, I’m going to consolidate all of it into the Organization. I’m going to add to what you’ve got.”

Gambino bowed in a respectful gesture. “I am grateful, Don Salvatore.”

“I would prefer you address me as Charles.”

Gambino bowed again. “As you wish, Don Charles.”

“I have spoken to Joe Adonis about your handbooks. He controls that end of it for the Organization. He has agreed to put in the wire service in your three handbooks and bankroll the action. In this way you can take any size wager that may come in. Your split with Joey A. will be thirty per cent of the net. The Organization will take seventy per cent. For that you get the wire service, the bankrolling, and full protection.”

Gambino bowed again. “It is most fair, Don Charles.”

“Good. The whiskey business is all yours. We are not concerned with that. Furthermore, I have it on the strongest information that the Prohibition Act will be repealed. Keep that in mind.”

“Yes, I will.”

“Good. That is all for now. I appreciate that you have been loyal and this is my way of rewarding you. That is all.”

Gambino thought a great deal of what Luciano had told him. If, as Luciano said, this Prohibition would be repealed and liquor would be sold legally, then surely the price for a bottle of whiskey would be much higher than what he could offer. Since moonshine whiskey cost him only a dollar a quart he could sell it for three dollars a quart and still make money as well as beat the price of legal stuff — and that was very much okay with Carlo Gambini.

Repeal did come in and the Organization went out of the business of illegal liquor. Gambino went out quietly buying up all the stills he could and went into manufacturing moonshine on a wholesale scale. He had appraised the situation accurately. Taxes on legal liquor were high. Those who had grown accustomed to drinking moonshine preferred it to the legal whiskey which they said was no better and certainly a great deal more expensive.

Gambino became the biggest moonshiner in the country. He had large stills in Brooklyn, the Catskills, Long Island, New Jersey, and in the hills of Pennsylvania, and in Maryland. Despite the vastness of the operation he kept a close control. He had learned the intricacies of organization from the masters of it in the underworld.

He operated his stills for almost six years before the Internal Revenue agents caught up with him. He was arrested and charged with running a million gallon a year still in Pennsylvania. He was duly convicted, and on May 29, 1939, he was sentenced to a term of twenty-two months in the Lewisburg Federal Penitentiary. It was his only prison term.

When he was released, World War II had begun. With the war in full swing, rationing became a law. Everything was scarce. Ration stamps were necessary for shoes, gasoline, meat, and other goods essential to the war effort. There already was a black market. Making huge profits.

Gambino talked with his brother Paola.

“This black market business, Paola, it is big money. Have you looked into it?”

“Yes. It is big, and it is simple to take.”

“Take?”

“Yes. The ration stamps are distributed by agencies. But I have learned that in Michigan, in Detroit, Grand Rapids and other cities there, the stamps are distributed from schools. Poof! They are kept in plain office desks. We will get a good burglar to break into these schools, take the stamps and deliver them to us.”

“Someone we can trust, eh?”

“Of course. We will make it worthwhile for him to be trusted. That — or else.”

“Yes, that is good. Set it up.”

There was one other thing that took Gambino’s interest at this time. Luciano was in prison. Although he continued to wield a great deal of influence from his prison cell, he was not able to hinder the grasping for power on the part of Vito Genovese, Albert Anastasia, Frank and Joe Scalise, and a few other up and coming young hoods. Genovese was particularly in the forefront for the role of capo di tutti capi — boss of all bosses.

At the moment, however, Gambino gave his attention to the matter of the ration stamps. Gambino brought Sam Accardi, a New Jersey gangster, who later was deported to Italy, into the plan.

Accardi knew several professional burglars. He talked two of them into accompanying him to Detroit, where they looked the situation over and found it exactly as Paola had said.

Schools in Detroit and several other surrounding cities were raided and hundreds of thousands of ration stamps for gasoline, meat, shoes, and other products were taken. Back in New York, Accardi and the two burglars broke into the Office of Price Administration offices in New York and New Jersey. Their haul in both areas were in the hundreds of thousands again. The government then put these stamps in banks but the damage largely had been done.

Gambino got rich.

He then penetrated legitimate businesses on a broad scale. The Castellanos had gone into the wholesale and retail meat business and many of the meat stamps were distributed through them. It was a case of keeping it all in the family.

Gambino brought his skills into garment factories, supermarkets, parking lots, pizza parlors, bars, restaurants, nightclubs, vending machine companies, garbage hauling, real estate, and construction firms. He hired the best brains for each of these business ventures, and through a clever corporation lawyer set up a parent organization and holding companies. He had a strong hold on many union locals and used his influence there to abet his legal and semi-legal or semi-lawful activities.

In order to hold a strong hand on the various unions he opened up an office of labor consultants under the name of SGS ASSOCIATES. The G stood for Gambino. His partners were Henry Saltzstein, an ex-con, a convicted burglar, probably one of the men involved in the ration stamp burglaries, and George Schiller, of whom little is known in underworld circles.

SGS ASSOCIATES was one of the most successful firms in labor relations. Word got around that anyone engaging SGS would never have any labor problems. Among their clients were the Concord Hotel in the Catskills, Howard Clothes, and the real estate firm of Wellington Associates which owned the Chrysler Building.

Gambino also expanded his illegal activities on broad fronts which included gambling, loan-sharking, hijacking, narcotics, and other nefarious deals and dodges. Despite the fact that Gambino had entered this country illegally, he made a trip to Palermo, Sicily, in 1948, where he met with Lucky Luciano to discuss the narcotics traffic. It was a memorable meeting.

Luciano said, “Carlo, I have never forgotten your loyalty to me and so I will give you complete control of all the white stuff that will come from here for delivery to the United States.”

Gambino bowed. “I appreciate it, Don Charles. You may depend on me. I shall follow your advice and orders.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Now, there are many men here and in Italy who wish to go to the United States. They will be smuggled aboard freighters and passenger liners. They will carry the white stuff and deliver it to you as payment for their passage. You will make some arrangements to see to it that these men are taken care of in some way. You may be able to use some of them yourself or obtain some sort of positions for them with others of our friends.”

Gambino nodded. “It will be taken care of.”

“Good. I am told you have been very successful, that you have many enterprises going for you. No trouble with anyone?”

“None. I leave them alone, they leave me alone.”

“That is good. Very well, Carlos. You will receive word from me each time there is to be a shipment. It will come to you through various sources. It was good seeing you again, Carlos. Good day.”

The FBI learned that Luciano was involved in the smuggling of heroin. The Bureau forwarded its information to the Bureau of Narcotics and that department put some of its best agents to work on the case.

It was discovered that about forty Sicilian aliens had been smuggled aboard the SS Pamorus which docked at the Port of Philadelphia in May, 1948. The Bureau of Narcotics also learned that Gambino was the contact but didn’t have enough evidence to bring Gambino into court. He was too smart to leave himself open to any charge of smuggling or possession. Everything was handled through several parties until, when the stuff finally reached him, no one could say for sure that the heroin had actually been delivered to him.

Gambino’s friendship with Luciano and his control of a great deal of the narcotics trade did not set too well with Vito Genovese. He believed that he had an “in” with Luciano and that Charlie Lucky would throw all the business his way. The truth of the matter is that Luciano didn’t like Genovese.

This dislike went back to the days when Genovese broke with Meyer Lansky, Joe Adonis, Frank Costello, and Willie Moretti. Genovese had taken Albert Anastasia with him at the time and formed his own family. He stepped on toes at every turn.

Now, he was being paid back in the coin of the realm. He wasn’t one to take it lying down. He schemed how to take over from Gambino. What he didn’t know, or forgot, was that Gambino was a deeper plotter and that his intrigue and tactics made Genovese look like a rank amateur at the business.

Gambino was an enigma in some ways. Like the Godfather made famous by Marlon Brando, Gambino liked to play the role of the kindly benefactor. Though he was neck deep in the importation and distribution of heroin that found its way to teen-agers of both sexes and turned many of them into thieves and prostitutes in order to support the habit, he made a grand gesture.

The owner of a candy store in the Fort Greene section of Brooklyn was selling drugs to young high school students. Many of these had become main-line addicts. Many of the parents complained to the police but nothing came of it. One anxious and deeply disturbed mother of a teen-aged son appealed to Gambino.

“Don Carlos, I beg you, my son is on heroin. He is going to get into very serious trouble unless something can be done. I am going crazy because of it. Please help me.”

“Where does he get it?” Gambino asked.

“From a candy store on Myrtle Avenue. The police have done nothing to put this man out of business. He is ruining many young lives. Please, Don Carlos, help us.”

Gambino nodded. “Go home, dear woman. I will take care of it. You have my promise.”

The woman grasped Gambino’s hand and kissed the back of it, bowed and went out, her heart easier.

The candy store was closed the next day and the owner had disappeared from the neighborhood. He was never heard from again. No one in the neighborhood knew what had happened to him.

The mother of the boy expressed her thanks to Don Carlo to everyone in the neighborhood. “God bless Don Carlo,” she said, “he saved our children.”

Gambino reveled in the role of the Godfather. It was, more or less, the traditional role of the Mafia man of respect. He was the one who settled many disputes, the benefactor of his people, bringing husband and wife together who were on the verge of separation or divorce, delivering food to the needy, staving off evictions, using his influence to save a boy or girl from prison and threatening them with harsh reprisals if they stepped out of line again.

He would find jobs for the unemployed, assisting those who needed money and then forgiving the loan. In this way he earned the gratitude and loyalty of hundreds of his countrymen.

Carlos Gambino played this dual role of destroyer and savior with ease. He gave off an aura of respectability and gentleness that earned him the respect of all the people in the neighborhood. He was a devoted husband and father, stayed clear of the nightspots and the gaudy saloons, and lived for forty years in the same neat, two-story brick house at 2230 Ocean Parkway in Brooklyn.

He also had a hundred-thousand dollar waterview ranch house at 34 Club Drive in Massapequa, Long Island, where he and his wife would host gatherings of fifty or more Mafioso and their wives on holiday occasions such as Fourth of July or Labor Day in which outdoor barbecues were the feature of the day. Like the Godfather in the movie, Gambino loved to putter in the garden, where he grew flowers and his favorite Italian tomatoes.

It was in this sumptuous home that he also entertained his lieutenant, Aniello Dellacroce. Here, too, he issued his orders to members of his family, the score or more of underbosses who ruled the soldiers in the organization, the thieves, dope peddlers, hijackers, the loan sharks, and the killers. He was, and is, the Godfather, merciful and merciless, the epitome of a pseudo grace and the devil incarnate of all that is evil.

While Vito Genovese was plotting to take over as boss of bosses, Carlo Gambino was building fences, security barriers that would in time thwart Genovese. Among the men Gambino courted and won over to his side was Thomas Marino known also as “Toddo” to his friends.

He was at the time the kingpin of Brooklyn’s underworld. A tall, six foot one inch, handsome figure of a man who dressed impeccably in subdued blues and greys, he was brought to the United States by his parents when he was four years old in 1907. In 1917, he was mixed up with a young gang of burglars, was busted on a job, convicted and sentenced to eighteen months in the reformatory. It was the only time he saw the inside of a prison cell.

Toddo’s break came in 1930. He met Little Augie Pisano, who was to become the big boss of the Miami Beach underworld operations in gambling, shy-locking, narcotics, and other bits of illegal business, all of it never proved.

Little Augie was then one of the shrewdest hoods in the underworld. Pisano took a liking to Toddo and introduced him to Joe Adonis. The two permitted Toddo to pal around with them because he listened more than he talked, was polite without being subservient, respectful and always conducted himself with the greatest propriety in public places.

Pisano and Adonis were involved heavily in smuggling booze into the country, as was Frank Costello. They needed a man they could trust in their Brooklyn operation. They chose Thomas “Toddo” Marino. That was all Marino needed.

Like most of the top hoods such as Lansky, Costello, and Gambino, Marino invested in legitimate businesses. He opened a bar and grill on Twenty-second Street and Fifth Avenue in Brooklyn. Three years later he opened a restaurant in the same neighborhood.

He gained prestige in Mafia circles and in the neighborhood where he lived. Like Gambino, he was always available when someone in the neighborhood was in trouble. Even today, he contributes to the church, attends services regularly, and is respectfully referred to by his neighbors as “Don Toddo”.

In 1941, he invested heavily in the bookmaking and gambling rackets. In addition, he opened up bars, restaurants, cleaning establishments, and laundries in Bay Ridge, on Fort Hamilton Parkway, and in South Brooklyn, all with the blessing of the Syndicate. He was a power.

This was the man that Carlo Gambino won as a friend.

At this time, Vito Genovese made his move to take over, and he sought out Carlo Gambino in the hope that Gambino would agree to the move.

Genovese knew that Gambino was Lucky Luciano’s man and so exerted a great deal of influence with the top members in the crime cartel.

Though Luciano was five thousand miles away in Italy, he sent his orders to Albert Anastasia, the Lord High Executioner of Murder, Incorporated, and closely aligned with Carlo Gambino. Genovese plotted to get rid of Anastasia.

However, Anastasia’s lieutenant, Frank “Don Cheech” Scalise, was extremely loyal to Anastasia. Kill Anastasia and you had to kill Scalise or reprisals would be swift and deadly. Scalise was also a close friend of Luciano and had visited him several times in Italy. Scalise was a power in his own right as the boss of the construction racket in the Bronx.

Genovese called Gambino and asked for a meeting.

“I think you will be very much interested in what I have to say, Carlo,” Genovese said.

“Yes, Vito, I am sure.” Gambino was certain that Genovese had a plan to eliminate some of the competition standing in his way as boss of bosses and wanted his help. “Where would you like to have this meeting, Vito?”

Genovese named a restaurant in Brooklyn.

“I know the place. What time?”

“Three o’clock tomorrow afternoon okay?”

“Sure, Vito. I’ll be there.”

Gambino called Don Toddo and told him about the meeting. Don Toddo warned Gambino.

“I do not trust Genovese, Carlo. He will use anyone he can in order to help him get what he wants. You know what he wants.”

“Sure, Toddo. But two can play at that game. I will listen to him. It won’t hurt.”

“Very well. I will have some of my boys check out the restaurant before you get there just to make sure.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary but go ahead anyway.”

“For your protection, Carlo.”

“I understand.”

Gambino met with Genovese. There was no one else in the place when Gambino walked in. Genovese was sitting at a table in the farthest corner of the restaurant. He rose when Gambino walked in and greeted him respectfully.

When the two men were seated, Genovese said, “I have information which I have checked out that Frank Scalise has been selling memberships in the Organization to a lot of young hoods for big money, from ten thousand to twenty-five thousand dollars. Also, on that shipment of white stuff the narcotics agents knocked off a month ago, Scalise had guaranteed the shipment. He has welched on the payoff. I am asking you to okay the hit.”

“What about Anastasia?” Gambino asked.

“I will take care of Anastasia,” Genovese said coldly.

“And after that, Vito? What then?”

“You are close to Luciano. You will send word to him in Italy that Scalise and Anastasia both welched and were hit by the men they double-crossed. In return for this favor, I will throw all my strength to you so that you can take over Anastasia’s family.”

“There may be trouble after Anastasia is hit,” Gambino pointed out.

“No, no, Carlo. No trouble. You will have Lansky on your side. You know that Anastasia and Lansky have never gotten along. Lansky will smooth things over.”

Gambino saw the picture. With Scalise and Anastasia dead there would be no further competition to keep Genovese from becoming the boss of bosses.

That was all right with Gambino since he would be taking over a big segment of rackets controlled by Anastasia. If, after that, something should happen to Genovese, then, with the power he would have, he could become the boss of bosses. It was a very tempting prospect.

He nodded. “I agree, Vito. I shall cooperate with you. You have my word.”

“Good, my friend. It is a deal.” He extended his hand which Gambino shook. Both men rose and walked out together.

On June 17, 1957, Scalise went to a fruit market in the Bronx. While he was bent over one of the stands, two gunmen walked up behind him and shot him four times in the head and neck. He died before he hit the ground.

Scalise’s brother Joe went to Anastasia and demanded that Frank’s killers be hit. Anastasia had heard the story of Frank’s welching and the selling of memberships. He had checked out both stories and found them to be correct. He refused to do anything about the killing.

Joe Scalise then vowed that he would do something about it.

The word then went out to hit Joe Scalise. He learned of it and went into hiding. He was gone for two months when he received word that he was forgiven and had nothing to fear. He returned to New York, and his old haunts.

On September seventh he suddenly disappeared and nothing was ever heard of him since.

The killing of the Scalise brothers was not so much an advance of Genovese’s plan to become the number one man in the Mafia as it was Gambino’s. He now became the second in command to Anastasia in Anastasia’s family. The next step, of course, was Anastasia.

Genovese held another meeting with Gambino to discuss hitting Anastasia. Gambino shrugged.

“That is your business, Vito. Whatever you decide.”

“I want your assurance that there will be no retribution, that no one in my family will get hurt.”

“If I do not know who the men responsible for the hit are how can order reprisals, eh, Vito?”

Genovese grinned. “Yes, of course. And you will not know, my friend.”

Genovese was wrong. Gambino knew hours afterward who the killers were. After Genovese left, Gambino got in touch with Meyer Lansky. He wanted the okay from Lansky on his part in the plot.

Lansky considered Anastasia an illiterate, ignorant, imprudent thug whose answer to everything was violence. The low opinion was mutual. Anastasia thought Lansky was a money hungry, condescending, self-styled intellectual, an outsider who was neither Italian nor Sicilian, and had no place in the hierarchy of the Syndicate.

Lansky, however, was prudent, cautious, and shunned violence as much as possible. In his role as financial genius of the Syndicate he wanted everything run smoothly, and advised against killings.

Gambino told Lansky of his talk with Genovese.

“You gave Genovese your okay?” Lansky asked.

“Not exactly. I said it was his business and that I didn’t want to know who the hit men were to be.”

“I see. Well, Carlo, you are guilty of knowledge. That could make you a co-conspirator if things went wrong. But like you told Genovese, I’m telling you, it’s your business. So far as I am concerned I heard nothing from you. I am going to forget this conversation. I want you to forget it. You understand?”

“Of course, Meyer.” Lansky’s answer was all that Gambino wanted. No objections. You want to involve yourself, that’s your business. As Gambino looked at the whole thing, he was in the clear.

He did not sanction the hit, he was to have no actual part in it. There was no way he could be tied to it. Genovese certainly would never admit to his part in it, and since only Genovese had spoken to him of it, he was clean.

Genovese, a schemer, decided not to use his own men in hitting Anastasia. He turned the task over to Joe Profaci, who was a close friend of Lansky’s. Profaci, in turn, gave the contract to “Crazy Joe” Gallo, one of three brothers, who were experts in the matter of doing away with undesirables and trouble makers.

The string, from Genovese to Profaci to Gallo, was such that tracing the murder plot to Genovese would be difficult — and to trace it to Gambino, impossible.

On the morning of October 25, 1957, Albert Anastasia was driven by Anthony Coppola into New York City from his walled estate in Fort Lee, New Jersey. Coppola, Anastasia’s chauffeur and bodyguard, let Anastasia off in front of the Park Sheraton Hotel on Seventh Avenue and 55th Street. Coppola then parked the car in a garage a few blocks away and went for a walk.

Anastasia went into the barbershop, hung up his coat, and sat down in a chair. He told Joseph Bocchino, the barber, he wanted a haircut. Bocchino draped a cloth around Anastasia’s neck as Anastasia leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Bocchino took a pair of clippers and began cutting on the shaggy hair.

At that moment the barbershop door swung open and closed silently.

Two men, silk scarves covering most of their faces stepped inside, pistols in hand. One of the men mumbled softly to Arthur Grasso, the owner.

“Keep your mouth shut or I’ll blow your head off!”

Grasso backed away from the two men and covered his face with his hands. The two hoods strode calmly to where Anastasia sat, pushed Bocchino to one side, leveled their pistols and began firing.

Anastasia leaped out of the chair as the first shots struck him. Completely out of his wits, he lunged at the reflection of the two gunmen in the mirror in front of him. Another volley of shots struck him in the neck and shoulder. The impact threw him against the glass shelf of the mirror and he crashed to the floor. Bottles of hair tonic and cologne shattered around him as he fell.

One of the gunmen took careful aim and sent a slug thundering into Anastasia’s head. The other gunmen looked around the shop in a swift glance.

“Stay where you are or I’ll kill you!” he warned.

The two hoods turned and hurried out of the shop onto Seventh Avenue. They walked briskly down the B.M.T. subway and disappeared from view. As they escaped from the murder scene they got rid of their weapons. One of them dropped his gun in the vestibule of the shop. The other killer tossed his weapon into a trash barrel on the subway platform.

The whole thing had taken less than two minutes.

Genovese moved immediately to take over as capo di tutti capi. Gambino, quietly and without much trumpeting of his moves, took over the head of the Anastasia family.

Genovese made his next big move to establish his position as the Boss of Bosses. He called together the leaders of the Syndicate for a conference to set up guide lines and reestablish territories and a unification of operations in all the rackets.

Stefano Magaddino, Buffalo boss, suggested the meeting be held at the home of Joseph Barbara in the sleepy Upstate New York hamlet of Apalachin. It was a serious mistake, as things turned out.

One of the items on Genovese’s agenda was to be his demand to be recognized as boss of all bosses. As a gesture of their good will, he demanded the Syndicate leaders bring tribute in the form of cash, which they were to turn over to him. He demanded the authorization and compliance by all the leaders for a purge of all unreliable members. Another specific point was the organization of the drug traffic, in which he was to play a major role.

Voting on these points never came to pass. Every hood boss who agreed to attend never gave thought to the fact that some hundred expensive automobiles, most of them with out-of-state license plates, could pass through a small town and not create suspicion.

When the Cadillacs, Continentals, Rollses, and other luxury cars were on the road to the Barbara estate it aroused the curiosity of Sergeant Edgar D. Crosswell of the New York State Police. He set up road blocks around the Barbara property and waited for things to happen.

A minor member of the convention went out for a stroll a short time before the meeting was called to order, saw the police cars and the road blocks, and hastened back to the house to report what he had seen. There was immediate confusion.

What followed could have made a comedy scene in a movie. Elderly and middle-aged hoods, dapper in their hand-tailored suits, rushed through the house looking for a way out. Some climbed through windows, others fled through back doors, most of them fleeing through the woods and underbrush in their wild rush to escape arrest.

Crosswell had reinforced himself with a score of troopers and they arrested sixty underworld leaders, among them, Vito Genovese, Stefano Magaddino, Sam Trafficante, John Scalish of Cleveland, Frank DeSimone of Los Angeles, Joe Bonanno, Joe Ida of Philadelphia, Jimmy Colletti of Colorado, Joe Profaci, Jimmy Civello of Dallas, and Joe Barbara. The roundup stunned the underworld.

The lucky ones who escaped were said to be Joe Zerilli of Detroit, Sam Giancana of Chicago, and James Lanza of San Francisco, among the other forty odd who had been in attendance.

Many of those arrested refused to answer questions, took the fifth Amendment against self-incrimination. They were charged with obstructing justice, tried, found guilty, and sentenced to prison. All the convictions were later overturned on appeals on the grounds that a meeting in itself did not constitute a crime.

But the debacle brought a harsh condemnation of Genovese by all the leaders for not having provided proper protection, and with it Genovese’s dream of complete rule shattered around him in ruins.

Carlo Gambino got away clean, reflected on the disaster, and smiled. The entire affair could not have been more advantageous to him than if he had planned it himself. It hurried the timetable in his plans to become Boss of Bosses.

There were other matters to attend to, however, and Gambino gave them his attention.

The most important one was Joe “Joe Bananas” Bonanno, who ruled the smallest of the five New York families. In comparison, small was fitting, but in the size of Bonanno’s operations it was far from that. He had expanded his holdings all the way from Brooklyn to Tucson, Arizona, where he had built a luxury type home. His enterprises were in the Midwest, Canada, and the Caribbean. He had grandiose ideas, and his blueprint was to eliminate at one and the same time Tommy Lucchese, Stefano Magaddino, and Carlo Gambino.

Bonanno was not big enough to pull off such a coup, so he called on Joseph Magliocco, a Brooklyn Mafioso and leader of the lethal Profaci clan.

Magliocco believed that Bonanno could pull of the coup and take over command, in which case Magliocco would benefit greatly by having his field of operations extended. He passed the murder contract on to Joe Colombo, who said he was delighted with the idea.

He wasn’t. He just pretended to be. What he had in mind was an opportunity for a Machiavellian type double cross. He believed that Bonanno and Magliocco couldn’t carry off the plan and come out on top. Bigger rewards would be realized by a grateful Carlo Gambino. He took his information to Gambino.

Gambino, by this time, was a power on the board of the national commission of the Syndicate. As such, he was not one with whom to trifle. Plotting his murder was akin to suicide.

The commission summoned Bonanno to appear before it and explain himself. He refused. He was ordered again to appear, and once again he refused.

Realizing he was in serious trouble, Bonanno attempted to name his son, Salvatore “Bill” Bonanno, as boss of his family, saying that he was a sick man and was retiring from the rackets.

The commission refused to accede to the move and named its own boss. The Bonanno family, hard-nosed, refused to accept this and the infamous Bonanno War broke loose. Bodies were dumped all over Brooklyn streets. And suddenly, Joe Bonanno disappeared.

He had dinner with his attorney, William Power Maloney, on the evening of October 24, 1964, and the two men were saying good-night to each other in front of Maloney’s home on Park Avenue and 36th Street when two hoods appeared from the shadows. They grabbed Bonanno, fired a warning shot at Maloney’s feet to freeze him in position, shoved Bonanno into a car and disappeared into the night at a high rate of speed.

The underworld said he had been killed, then buried in a lonely field, or crushed in a cement mixer.

Yet, in January 1965, while the FBI was searching for his body, Gambino called a meeting of some of the top members of the national commission that was held in the Capri restaurant in Cedarhurst, Long Island, New York.

Attending were Salvatore “Sam Mooney” Giancana of Chicago, Angelo Bruno of Philly, Stefano Magaddino, Tommy Lucchese, and, of course, Gambino. The four men voted to kill Bonanno. Gambino was in favor of a more moderate course. The meeting ended without a definite course of action.

A week later Gambino discussed the situation with Sam “The Plumber” DeCavalcante, who bossed a small New Jersey family, and shortly after, DeCavalcante discussed the matter with his chief lieutenant, Joe DeSelva. Unfortunately for DeCavalcante, he didn’t know that the FBI had bugged his office.

DeCavalcante said to DeSelva, “The commission haven’t decided yet what to do with Bonanno. We figure we’ll take him to Florida, hit him there and bury him.”

This was the first time that the FBI knew that Bonanno was alive. An intensive search was made for him.

Another part of the conversation overheard by the FBI between DeCavalcante and DeSelva was to the effect that Joseph Magliocco did not die a natural death, but has been rubbed out.

DeCavalcante said, “Bonanno put Magliocco up to a lot of things. He told him to hit Carlo Gambino and Tommy Brown. Magliocco was poisoned. They fed him a pill.”

The death of Magliocco left a vacancy at the top of the old Profaci family. He filled it by appointing Joseph Colombo as the new ruler in gratitude for the information he had brought him. Not only that, but he also elevated Colombo to Profaci’s old seat on the national commission. It was an unpopular choice because most of the men in the top positions of the Syndicate felt that Colombo lacked the experience and intelligence to carry on as head of so important a family. However, Gambino’s power was too great to contend.

Gambino now turned his attention to Vito Genovese. Genovese, despite the fact that he did not have the backing of the commission, declared himself Boss of Bosses.

Characteristically violent, an amoral and atavistic hoodlum, he was feared not only for himself, but because he commanded a family of some five-hundred hoods, all of them as hard and tough as he himself. An open war with him would spill blood all over New York’s five Boroughs and bring heat on the town that no one wanted.

Gambino said he would handle it.

He sent a message to Anna Genovese, who was living apart from her husband, angry and disillusioned. She knew of Vito’s string of mistresses, as she knew that he had ordered her first husband’s murder in order to win her.

During World War II, when Vito was in Italy as a friend of Benito Mussolini and enjoying the favors of many Italian beauties there, she had taken on several lovers herself. They had proved much more satisfactory than Vito, whom she regarded as a “Lousy Latin Lover.”

After a brief talk with Gambino, Anna sued for separate maintenance. Her story to the court was that Vito was a very rich man. Their home in Atlantic Highlands had cost $75,000. Genovese spent an additional hundred thousand dollars in renovations, and a quarter of a million dollars for furnishings. There were Chinese teak furniture, Italian statuary, marble fireplaces and staircases, gold and platinum dishes.

“My husband,” she declared, “never pays less than two hundred and fifty dollars for a suit, three hundred and fifty dollars for a coat, sixty dollars for a pair of shoes. We have lived very high. I have many fur coats, dresses that cost from three hundred to nine dollars each.”

She further stated that all the time her husband was in Italy, she kept the books and that his income from the Italian lottery never was less than forty thousand dollars a week.

“I can no longer live with him because he has beaten me brutally on many occasions.”

Genovese’s friends expected him to kill her or have her killed. Instead, and for a reason no one could understand, Genovese ordered a contract on his onetime friend, Steve Franse, in whose care he had left Anna when he had decided to go to Italy during the war. Killing Franse would be a warning to Anna that she had better stop her talking.

Franse was lured to a restaurant where he was brutally beaten, garroted, and his body tossed into the rear of his car, which was driven at a spot on the Grand Concourse and abandoned.

It was a fruitless killing. There were too many things now against Genovese. Anna’s testimony sent Federal authorities to his office, where they seized his books. What the Feds wanted was not an income tax evasion rap but evidence of involvement in major crimes, a murder, narcotics, anything that would send Genovese away for a long time.

Gambino learned of a small time pusher named Nelson Cantellops who was serving a five year term in Sing Sing on a drug rap. A lawyer called on Cantellops, and offered him protection — and a large sum of money — if he would tell what he knew about Genovese’s deals in narcotics.

Cantellops wrote a letter to the Federal Bureau of Narcotics asking for an interview. The Feds didn’t believe that Cantellops, a Puerto Rican who was busted for pushing junk on street corners, could have any information linking higher ups in the Mafia to drugs. However, after agents talked with him for several days they decided they could use him in their efforts to nail Genovese and members of the Genovese family Cantellops implicated.

Cantellops’ story was that, at first, he had been only a pusher, but he had met some important people in the Syndicate for whom he did errands. He was often entrusted with large amounts of heroin by “Big John” Ormento for delivery to various members of the organization. He proved to be a most reliable messenger.

In a short time he was introduced to some of the bigger men in the organization, among them Natale Evola and Rocco Mazzie, two of Genovese’s most trusted lieutenants, and finally to Vito Genovese himself. Then came the story that crushed Genovese.

At a date and time Cantellops named, he was in a car with Evola, Mazzie, Ormento, and Genovese when Genovese gave the orders to his men to move in and take over the narcotics distribution in the East Bronx.

This testimony resulted in the indictment of Genovese and twenty-four other men for narcotics conspiracy. In the spring of 1959, fifteen of the twenty-four were brought to trial.

The other nine took off for parts unknown and fugitive warrants were issued for them, becoming the objects of intensive manhunts.

The only witness against Genovese was Cantellops.

Defense attorneys were certain that Cantellops had been briefed, that he had been given the information to which he testified by someone. However, no matter how hard they tried to shake him, Cantellops could not be moved from his testimony nor tripped up.

All the defendants were found guilty. Genovese was sentenced to a term of fifteen years in a federal penitentiary.

Genovese was certain beyond all doubt that someone in the Syndicate had wanted him out of the way but he wasn’t certain just who. He suspected several, among them Carlo Gambino and Frank Costello, Abner “Longy” Zwillman, and Tony Bender.

The members of Genovese’s family sent their most skilled killers to get Zwillman and Bender, and Gambino, if possible. Costello was in and out of prison, battling denaturalization moves. Eventually, his citizenship was revoked in 1961 but he fought deportation and remained out on bail.

Abner “Longy” Zwillman was found dead hanging from a rafter in the cellar of his West Orange, New Jersey home on February 27, 1959.

The story was that he had committed suicide. With his hands tied behind him? And a taut wire around his neck? Moreover, his body was bruised, indicating he had been beaten. Underworld sources declared that Gerry Catena, Genovese’s underboss, had let out the contract on Zwillman.

Tony Bender was next. On April 8, 1962, he left home for a walk. No trace has been found of him to this day. According to the best sources of information, Bender was strangled, his body tossed into a cement mixer, and the blood and flesh of Bender is now part of a Manhattan skyscraper project.

With Genovese in prison, the so-called regents of the mob, Mike Miranda, Tommy Eboli, and Gerry Catena, were not strong enough to control the mob or administer the vast holdings Genovese had attained.

Little by little, Gambino took over one and another of Genovese’s rackets. He couldn’t be stopped. Then, in 1962, Lucky Luciano died of a heart attack in Naples.

Gambino was the only man who knew of all the contacts in Europe who had supplied heroin to Luciano. He contacted them and they agreed to deal only with him. The national crime cartel had to deal with Gambino. They had no objection, because they felt that Gambino was fair. Thus Gambino further strengthened his hold on all the rackets in New York and his position as Boss of Bosses.

There was one last obstacle to face now and Gambino would be securely ensconced in his role of capo di tutti capi.

The Gallos.

The Gallos wanted in. They were no longer satisfied with being mere hit men. Larry Gallo, the oldest of the three brothers, was invited to a meeting at the Sahara Lounge in Brooklyn to discuss the demands made on Gambino. He was told he would receive good news. He barely escaped death in the form of a noose around his neck, by the appearance of a cop on a routine check of his rounds.

Crazy Joe Gallo was arrested by three detectives on a charge of extortion and convicted in a sensational trial. He was sentenced to a term of seven to fourteen years. When Crazy Joe was released from prison he attempted to take over again. The year was 1971. He had only a short time to live. He married a lovely young woman and was celebrating with his bride and several friends and their wives in the early morning hours at Umberto’s Clam House in Brooklyn when two gunmen walked in and shot him dead.

Vito Genovese died suddenly in prison. Joe Adonis died in Italy. Tommy (Ryan) Eboli, a top lieutenant in the Genovese family, was shot and killed. Jerry Catena went to prison.

And now, at last, Carlo Gambino was on top with no one to challenge him.

Federal authorities have tried to deport him but each time they sought to bring him into court Gambino was suddenly seized with a heart attack. He is today in his seventies, his once sturdy figure down to 145 pounds, his face thin, the nose elongated, but the brain is as agile as ever, and he remains the Godfather to the Syndicate.

Though he remains powerful, his word law, he is not a vicious man.

It has been peaceful for a while. What will happen after Gambino dies no one really knows. It’s a good bet that murders will once again he committed in a struggle for supremacy and the title of capo di tutti capi.

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown? Maybe.