"I Heard You Paint Houses": Frank "The Irishman" Sheeran & Closing the Case on Jimmy Hoffa (43 page)

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They closed the Latin Casino for Frank Sheeran Appreciation Night. The Latin was where I used to go with Skinny Razor and the downtown crowd in the old days on Sunday nights. Frank Sinatra had been a regular performer. They had all the big stars over the years—Al Martino, Dean Martin, Liberace. The same stars that played in Vegas played at the Latin. That was the only nightclub around.

John McCullough of the roofer’s union had put the banquet together. There were 3,000 people there eating prime rib or lobster and an open bar. It was a Friday night and a lot of the Catholics still ate fish on Friday so they had the choice of lobster, but the prime rib was excellent. The guests included the men from the different Teamsters locals and my old war buddies and some people from management, all kinds of people. The president of Local 676, John Greely, gave me a plaque as Teamsters Man of the Year. John McCullough announced all the high-ups that were in the room and he mentioned all the FBI agents that were outside in the trees with their binoculars. Even if you had a ticket that night you didn’t get in unless you knew somebody. We would refund your money and confiscate your ticket if you didn’t know anybody.

Jimmy Hoffa was the featured speaker, and he presented me a solid gold watch with diamonds all around it. Jimmy gave a terrific speech telling everybody there what good work I had done on behalf of the working men and women in Pennsylvania and Delaware. Jimmy looked around on the dais and said, “I had no idea you were this strong.” Mayor Frank Rizzo was up there on the dais. Cecil B. Moore, the head of the Philadelphia NAACP, was up there. The former D.A., Emmett Fitzpatrick, was on the dais. The dais was loaded with dignitaries from politics and labor.

My wife, Irene, and all four of my daughters were there at the front table. My youngest, Connie, was only eleven at the time. Dolores was nineteen. Peggy was twenty-six. Mary Ann was twenty-eight. They all looked very proud of me that night. Jimmy made Irene come up on stage and he gave her a dozen roses. She was embarrassed to go up and he kept coaxing her until she gave in.

There was a front table off to the right of the table from Irene and my daughters. This was Russell’s table. His wife, Carrie, was the only woman at that table. Dave Osticco and Guf Guarnieri, the high-ups from Russell’s family, were there. Angelo Bruno and a couple of his people were there at Russell’s table. All of downtown was there at another table.

Russell had bet me that I was going to louse up my speech. I ended my speech by saying, “Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. I know I don’t deserve all of this tonight, but I have arthritis and I don’t deserve that either. See, Russ, I didn’t mess up my speech.” Russell waved to me and everybody laughed.

For entertainment John McCullough had lined up the Italian singer Jerry Vale. He sang all the old Italian songs he was famous for singing, like “Sorrento” and “Volare.” Then he sang some Irish songs that McCullough had put him up to. He did a special number on Russell’s and my favorite song at that time, “Spanish Eyes.” If you didn’t know who was singing you’d think it was Al Martino.

As part of the show they had the Golddigger Dancers with legs up to their shoulders. They were good-looking girls. Everybody kept kidding me to go up on the stage and mix it up with the dancers. The Latin was packed and they didn’t have a dancefloor or I would have danced with the most beautiful girls in the house, my daughters.

We all posed for our own photographer that night, and while we were getting our pictures taken Jimmy said to me, “I truly had no idea you were this strong, my friend. I really appreciate all the support you have given me over these years. I’m glad you’re on my side. Frank, when I get back in, you’re going right along with me. I need you around me. If you’ll take the job I’m going to make you an International organizer with an unlimited expense account.”

“I know you mean it, Jimmy,” I said. “It would be my honor to serve as an International organizer someday.” That would have been my dream come true.

John McCullough had limos to take my family home and I took Jimmy back to the Warwick Hotel. There was no way I was letting Jimmy go back to his hotel alone in a limo. We didn’t talk about anything important. All our important talking had been done the night before.

The night before, we had our own private party at Broadway Eddie’s. Broadway Eddie’s was a small bar with a few tables at the corner of Tenth and Christiansen. The bar is still there, but under a different name. That night the bar was closed to the public and you needed a special invitation to get in. My good friends from downtown and from upstate were all there to show their appreciation for Frank Sheeran. Naturally, Jimmy would be at that private affair, too. If anybody had the place under surveillance the whole thing looked like it was built around me. But it was actually put together for a meeting with Russell and Angelo to talk to Jimmy. Russell had asked me if Jimmy would attend a meeting with special friends of mine. Jimmy said, “Is it important to you?” I said, “Yes.” And that’s how the thing at Broadway Eddie’s was set up.

Jimmy had gotten into Philly from Detroit that afternoon. I guess he flew in, but he didn’t have the private plane at his disposal anymore. Fitz had that. I picked him up at the Warwick Hotel and filled Jimmy in on the meeting Russell and I had with Fat Tony Salerno. Jimmy was happy about that part. We got in my big Lincoln and drove out to Jersey to see John Greely at Local 676. Greely was a Hoffa man, and Jimmy wanted to touch base with him about something. While Jimmy was meeting with Greely I waited outside. Then we went to Broadway Eddie’s

There were about sixty people at Broadway Eddie’s that night. The only ones who were at a table eating were Angelo, Russell, Jimmy, and me. The rest were at the bar. Trays of food kept coming out of the kitchen for the people at the bar. Jimmy was having spaghetti and meatballs, and I was having raviolis. The four of us were sitting in a row. When you wanted to talk you had to lean out a little bit. Angelo was on the end next to Russell, and Jimmy was between Russell and me.

Angelo didn’t say anything and I didn’t say anything the whole time. They knew I was for Hoffa. I had Hoffa stickers all over my Lincoln. There was no prolonged conversation about what they were there for. I would imagine Jimmy knew why he was asked to be there, but I don’t know.

“What do you want to run for?” Russell asked.

“It’s my union,” Jimmy said.

“You only have four years to wait. You could run in eighty. That would make sense.”

“I could run now. I’ve got the people with me.”

Jimmy wasn’t being fresh, but he was being firm. Russell didn’t say anything about the way Jimmy was campaigning and the things Jimmy was going around saying about the alleged mob. But Jimmy had to know that such talk in public would be of concern to Russell. Jimmy knew about Joe Colombo and the publicity he brought and Crazy Joey Gallo. Jimmy knew how all of Russell’s problems began with the publicity from Apalachin. At least Jimmy should have been wondering what was causing Russell to go from being behind Jimmy and meeting with Fat Tony to help Jimmy in 1976, and now talking this way about things.

“What are you running for?” Russell said. “You don’t need the money.”

“It’s not about the money,” Jimmy said. “I’m not letting Fitz have the union.”

Russell didn’t say anything for a minute. He just ate in silence. People didn’t say no to Russell and he usually never had to ask twice.

Jimmy said, “I’m going to take care of the people who’ve been fucking me.”

Russell turned to Jimmy and was now facing Jimmy and me both. “There are people higher up than me that feel that you are demonstrating a failure to show appreciation,” and then he said so softly that I had to read his lips, “for Dallas.”

Jimmy did not respond to that.

Russell turned away and made some small talk with Angelo and that meant the meeting was over. We finished eating. I sat there thinking that this was it. The people had talked among themselves and Russell was now speaking for them, and they were against Jimmy running and Russell was, too. Tony Pro had won the battle for their hearts and minds. I had the feeling that it wasn’t that Jimmy was running that was costing his support among his friends; it was the way he was running.

I didn’t know how serious it was for Jimmy until Jimmy and I were getting ready to leave. Russell took me aside and said, “Some people have a serious problem with your friend. Talk to your friend. Tell him what it is.”

“I’ll do my best. You know yourself, Russ; he’s tough to talk to.”

“He’s got no choice.”

“Jimmy’s pretty high up himself,” I said.

“You’re dreaming, my friend. If they could take out the president, they could take out the president of the Teamsters.”

Jimmy liked the Warwick Hotel. It was around Seventeenth and Walnut, a short ride from Broadway Eddie’s in my Lincoln with the Hoffa stickers. I went up to Jimmy’s room with him to have that talk with him, but Jimmy started talking first.

“Everybody wants Hoffa to back down. They’re all afraid of what I know. I got a package here I want you to take down to the Market Inn.” Jimmy handed me a small satchel, not too heavy. It had no name on it. Whoever it was for would know enough to come for it.

“That reminds me, Jimmy,” I said. “I’ve been meaning to tell you this before; Mitchell stopped down the hall last spring and told me to tell you not to run. He said to enjoy your pension and your grandchildren.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. That fucking Mitchell already told me, ‘Don’t even think about using what you think you know.’”

“I didn’t know what Russell was going to say to you tonight, Jimmy,” I said. “But I know they mean it, Jimmy. On the way out tonight Russell told me to tell you what it is.”

“If anything unnatural happens to Hoffa, I can tell you all hell will break loose. I’ve got more records and lists ready to be mailed out to the media than you can imagine. I’ve had too many motherfuckers in my life I thought I could trust. I need more people like you. And I have them now. I know who my friends are.”

“Jimmy, you’re doing a lot of puffing that has people concerned.”

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg, the tip of the iceberg. Let me tell you—Dallas, did you hear that word tonight? Remember that package you took to Baltimore? I didn’t know it then, but it turns out it was high-powered rifles for the Kennedy hit in Dallas. The stupid bastards lost their own rifles in the trunk of a Thunderbird that crashed when their driver got drunk. That pilot for Carlos was involved in delivering the replacements that you brought down. Those fuckers used both of us on that deal. We were patsies. What do you think of that? They had fake cops and real cops involved in it. Jack Ruby’s cops were supposed to take care of Oswald, but Ruby bungled it. That’s why he had to go in and finish the job on Oswald. If he didn’t take care of Oswald, what do you think they would have done to him—put Ruby on a meat hook. Don’t kid yourself. Santo and Carlos and Giancana and some of their element, they were all in on Kennedy. Every single one of the same cast of characters that were in on the Bay of Pigs. They even had a plot to kill Castro with Momo and Roselli. I’ve got enough to hang everybody. And every last bit of it comes out if anything unnatural happens to me. They will all pay. All those who fucked me will pay.”

I sat there with the satchel in my lap. Jimmy would sometimes get on a kick and there was no stopping him. You just listened. But I never saw him like this before. I never saw anybody like this before. This time it was unreal. There was nothing for me to say even if I was inclined to do any talking. If the room was bugged I didn’t want my voice on anything. Picking up high-powered rifles—man, oh, man.

“You don’t know the half of it. Fitz’s stupidity is only exceeded by his arrogance. They thought Hoffa was going to drop off the face of the earth. None of them have got an ounce of balls to face me. My Irish friend, there are things I can’t tell you because it would cost you your life to know them. There are secret things I have known, seen, and supported that would rock this nation.”

Jimmy then went on to tell me alleged things about our good friends, not pertaining to this. Things not for publication. I can’t say I knew them all, anyway, but I knew most of them and I suspected some of the others. None of it was my business or his business. It was time for me to get out of there. In case the room was bugged I said, “I heard none of that was true, Jimmy.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got records in the hands of the right people and the motherfuckers know I’ve kept records on all of it. And I’ve got it all in safe places.”

“Jimmy, do me a favor and keep some bodies around between you and the street.”

“Bodyguards make you careless.”

“I’m not saying bodyguards. Just travel with people. You came to this thing in Philly alone.”

“I’m not going that route or they’ll go after my family.”

“Still in all, you don’t want to be out on the street by yourself.”

“Nobody scares Hoffa. I’m going after Fitz and I’m going to win this election.”

“You know what this means, Jimmy,” I said softly. “McGee himself told me to tell you what it is.”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Jimmy Hoffa said out loud.

On the way to the door, Jimmy said to me, “You watch your ass.”
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chapter twenty-seven