MOB DAUGHTER
This edition published in 2013 by Summersdale Publishers Ltd.
First published in the USA in 2012 by St Martin's Press
Copyright Karen Gravano with Lisa Pulitzer, 2012
Back cover images courtesy of Debra Gravano and Yvonne Hemsey via Getty Images
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CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I'd like to acknowledge my special friends and family who have been in my corner and believed in me through all my ups and downs.
David, thanks for being a great father to our beautiful daughter Karina and for always being there when it counts.
Karina and Nicholas: you are the loves of my life. I am so proud of both of you.
Dad, Mom, and Gerard: you are my foundation and support team. Throughout everything we've been through in life we have always remained ONE. I am so proud to call each one of you family. I love you all.
To everyone from the offices to the field that works so hard every day to create Mob Wives, thanks for putting up with us.
To all the people that watch and support Mob Wives, you make the show worth doing. And to the people who have taken the time to reach out to me personally, trust me, your support is very much appreciated. And a special thanks to everyone who helped this book come to life. Lisa, our hard work is complete. xoxo
CHAPTER SEVEN
'Say hello to your uncle John.'
The first time I encountered John Gotti was when he called the house to talk to Dad not long after Paul Castellano was gunned down. I answered the phone and the male on the other end said, 'Who's this?'
I answered, 'Karen', and the man said, 'Hey Karen, this is your uncle John. Is your father home?'
I knew this was the person I had seen so many times in the papers and on the news after Paul died. He intrigued me, with his dapper confidence and swagger. He was like a movie star to me, a celebrity. He rode in shiny Lincoln Town Cars and had a crew of men around him. He reeked of importance.
From that phone call forward, John was in Dad's life. If John needed something, my father would jump. It just seemed like everything got more formal. We used to eat dinner as a family every night at 5:30 p.m. Now Dad had to eat dinner at 5:00 because he had to meet John at the social club on Mulberry Street in Little Italy at 6:00.
That's when I became 'Sammy's daughter', but it was bigger than that. The transformation in how my father was received went from straight-up respect, to respect coupled with fear. This was the first time I saw that people were afraid of him, that he was powerful, and that he controlled something. From the moment Paul Castellano was killed, my father was in the spotlight with John. He was the guy carrying the umbrella while John was walking down the street. He was the second in command and helping to run the most powerful crime family in New York.
The first time I met John Gotti was at my Sweet Sixteen party. I had seen him at my father's office on Stillwell Avenue a couple of times, but this was the first time we were introduced. The celebration was at Pastels in Brooklyn, a well-known Mafia hangout. For the big occasion, I wore a pink leather dress, custom made. It was really tight-fitting, had a sweetheart top and came with a matching pink leather jacket. I complimented the ensemble with pink high heels. I got my hair professionally styled and it was teased and sprayed to the max. My father forewarned me that John was going to be there. 'When you meet John, you be polite. You mind your manners,' he told me.
Fifty teenagers and sixty men with their families were at the party. My fifty friends included cousins, classmates from Staten Island Academy, and schoolyard guy friends from Leggett Place. Dad's sixty men friends were all wiseguys.
Dad hired a DJ who played songs I chose personally and a video-photographer. I didn't realize the photographer stank until after the party was over, and I was watching the video with friends. All the footage was shot on the dance floor, nothing else. I complained to Dad, who told me that was how it had to be. My father had told the guy not to come up past the sunken dance floor where the tables were to keep him from filming the top wiseguys who were in attendance. In the middle of the festivities, there was a whisper circulating in the crowd. 'John Gotti's here,' my classmates were murmuring excitedly. It was as if I had a celebrity at my Sweet Sixteen. My father brought John over to the bar, where I was hanging out with some of my friends, and said, 'Say hello to your uncle John.'
I didn't even have an uncle named John. I kissed him on the cheek. The Don smiled, congratulated me on getting older, and handed me an envelope stuffed with ten crisp one-hundred-dollar bills.
He was totally different from my dad. He was serious and poised, not the least bit warm and bubbly. He was not the 'hey kiddo' type, he was very serious. He needed to be catered to and worshipped. I minded my manners, like my father had told me. But I was relieved when he exited to a back room where all the wiseguys were hanging out.
A couple of days later, there was a note taped to my locker at school. It said, 'I heard you had a nice Sweet Sixteen. Must be nice to be a Mafia princess.' It wasn't signed. I thought it might be from a girl whose boyfriend liked me, but I was not sure. I also didn't know if it was meant as a compliment or an insult. I never felt like I was a Mafia princess. I felt like my father was a kingpin among gangsters, but the 'royalty' thing began and ended there.
I never felt completely comfortable at Staten Island Academy. I would dress up like the other kids, walk around with Fendi bags and such, but I always felt different.
When I was twelve, somebody gave my dad a Gucci bag, which he passed on to me. I thought the thing was hideous and told him I didn't want it. He told me, 'It's from Italy. It's supposed to be nice.' A couple of years went by, and all my friends were carrying Gucci bags. I asked my mother what became of mine.
'I thought you didn't like it,' she said. She told me she had given it away.
'Now I need to have it,' I said in my best convincing voice. 'Everyone at school has one.'