Anthony M. DeStefano - Vinny Gorgeous: The Ugly Rise and Fall of a New York Mobster

V INNY G ORGEOUS

A LSO BY A NTHONY M. D E S TEFANO:

King of the Godfathers:

Joseph Massino and the Fall of the Bonanno Crime Family

Mob Killer:

The Bloody Rampage of Charles Carneglia, Mafia Hit Man

V INNY G ORGEOUS

The Ugly Rise and Fall of a New York Mobster

A NTHONY M. D E S TEFANO

Copyright 2013 by Anthony M. DeStefano

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted in writing from the publisher. Requests for permission should be addressed to Globe Pequot Press, Attn: Rights and Permissions Department, PO Box 480, Guilford CT 06437.

Lyons Press is an imprint of Globe Pequot Press.

All photos courtesy of the US Attorneys Office, Eastern District of New York, unless otherwise noted.

Project editor: Meredith Dias

Layout: Sue Murray

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

DeStefano, Anthony M.

Vinny gorgeous : the ugly rise and fall of a New York mobster /

Anthony M. DeStefano.

pages cm

ISBN 978-0-7627-9658-8

1. Basciano, Vincent. 2. CriminalsUnited StatesBiography. 3.

Organized crimeNew York (State)New York 4. MafiaNew York

(State)New York. I. Title.

HV6248.B346D47 2013

364.1092dc23

[B]

2012051760

I N MEMORY OF F RANK B ARI, A REPOSITORY OF SO MUCH OF THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE HIDDEN HISTORY OF THE MOB IN N EW Y ORK. A FORMER MEMBER OF THE C OAST G UARD, V IETNAM VETERAN, ATTORNEY, HUSBAND, FATHER, AND GOOD FRIEND.

Only Your Friend Could Hurt You.

Testimony of Salvatore Vitale on the inherent treachery of mob life

In New York City if you have secret business to take care of late at night on a lonely street, then certain spots in Greenpoint are among the best places.

Not the southern part of the Brooklyn neighborhood close to the Williamsburg Bridge where the chic artistic crowd hangs out in Asian fusion restaurants. No, instead there are streets in the northern section of the neighborhood surrounded by industrial parking lots and old brick buildings dating from the nineteenth century. Greenpoint once was home to the old New York industries of printing, pottery, petroleum, glass making, and iron working. Collectively they were known as the black arts because of the grit and noxious by-products.

Most of that manufacturing base left the area after World War II, but this zone bordering the polluted Newtown Creek still remains largely industrial. The city planned to revive the area in the latter years of Mayor Michael Bloombergs administration, but in 2004 street lamps too widely spaced apart to give much illumination lit the mostly deserted streets after dark. Metallic towers of a sewage treatment plant towered over the neighborhood. Oblong and tall, the structures resembled giant eggshells or the domes of some misplaced Russian Orthodox church.

On the evening of November 30, 2004, Randolph Pizzolo arrived in the neighborhood driving a black BMW and made the turn onto Monitor Street, a byway named for the fabled Civil War ironclad ship, built in one of the areas old shipyards. A dark-haired man with a husky build bulked by years of construction work and overeating, Pizzolo had arranged to meet a friend to discuss something important.

Friend wasnt exactly the right term for the man called Ace. Pizzolo never got much from the relationship. With intimidating, penetrating black eyes and a head that merged, sans neck, into his shoulders, Ace Aiello was a new member of the Mafia, and he acted like itcertainly around Pizzolo. He never missed a moment to dress down Randy in public, like when Pizzolo first shook the hand of a lowly soldier before greeting a Mafia captain and Ace castigated him. Arguments between the two men commonly took place at bars and restaurants.

But things werent like that with Dominick. The handsome, strapping guy from the Bronx seemed to be the only one who treated Pizzolo decently. Maybe it was because he was secure in his position as a Mafioso or he just happened to like Pizzolo. But if someone took the time to dine with Pizzolo and listen to his problems and his dreams, it usually was Dominick. If there was a fight to break up, Dominick was there. Since Aiello fell under the command of Dominick, Pizzolo knew to come when he was called. After all, Dominick was really controlling things.

Ace and Pizzolo had talked earlier in the evening, and he told Pizzolo to drive to Greenpoint, to a street behind the lumberyard. Pizzolo likely didnt know what was so urgent, so sensitive, that it required an evening rendezvous on a Brooklyn street. But he had for years been flirting with life as a mobster, although he was not really a member. He had worked as a factotum and driver for some of the made men. If those more closely connected to the mob life wanted something from him, he obeyed. If he did enough favorsincluding the odd bit of violence if necessaryhe figured it would get his ticket punched for a trip to joining La Cosa Nostra. He wanted to build a bar in Astoria, Queens, and if he established true ties to the mob fraternity, that could mean a lot of business.

God knows, Pizzolo had waited long enough for just such an initiation. For years he had been pestering some members of the Bonanno crime family like Dominickwho chewed Pizzolo out for askingabout whether he would get to attend a secret conclave where the old ritual of membership took place. The old gangsters used a gun as a prop and pricked the initiates finger to draw blood. In recent years, they stopped using the gun to avoid getting busted for weapons possession if cops happened to arrive. They also did away with the medieval ritual of drawing blood for health reasons. But participants still burned the card with a picture of a saint in the hands of the initiate, who had to swear loyalty to the life of crime and his new boss.

Pizzolo was ready. He had paid his dues. Randolph Pizzolo wanted to become a made man in the worst way. Yet, if truth be told, Pizzolo had problems, which had been weighing increasingly on his mind. The previous months had seen a convergence of festering issues that had plagued Pizzolo and were seriously inhibiting his wiseguy aspirations. Career criminals needed to exhibit a certain decorum, and Pizzolo showed a lack of discretion and a propensity to call unnecessary attention to himself. Once, at a Manhattan restaurant, he told a soldier in the crime family that he should keep quiet and not ever think about becoming a government witness as others had done. Realizing his mistake, Pizzolo apologized.

At another fashionable Manhattan restaurant mob hangout, Pizzolo thought he would be cute and hassle an FBI agent dining at a table nearby with some friends.

I will buy you all a drinkexcept the fed, Pizzolo boasted in an effort to embarrass the official.

The agent, whose investigative specialty covered Colombian drug cases and not La Cosa Nostra, wasnt the least bit intimidated and put Pizzolo in his place. I should get your ass violated because you know you shouldnt be in here. The agent knew Pizzolo was already on probation and should not have been in close proximity to other criminals that evening. It was a moment of vulnerability that Pizzolo stupidly had opened himself up to. To make matters worse, he had done so by violating one of the rules of Mafia civility: Be respectful of the cops who are doing their job.