Surviving the Mob (10 page)

“When I walked into the diner, the whole crew was there staring at me. Joey started right off with, ‘Where’s the money, kid? You think you can rob us and get away with it?’

“I started laughing and told Joey to screw himself. Nicky had been with me and knew the truth. I was waiting for him
to step forward. But he kept quiet and let Joey talk, digging himself a deeper hole. Finally, Nicky jumped up and grabbed Joey by the shirt. He said, ‘You motherfucker. I was with the kid last night when he dropped off the goddamn money.’

“Joey’s face turned white and I thought he was going to faint. And then he started to cry and told how the girl he was with at the bar had rolled him. She took the money, all of it. He had been too ashamed to admit it so he made up the story that I never brought the money to him. Nicky said, ‘You’re lucky you’re a relative or I’d let the kid kill you right here.’

“I would have killed the bastard, too. The Mob doesn’t take internal theft lightly. If I hadn’t given Nicky that ride home, my body would probably have ended up in a landfill or in the trunk of an abandoned car.

“But Joey and I both walked out of the luncheonette alive. His punishment was exclusion from all crew businesses. My reward was that I was made the sole manager of the Stillwell Avenue horse room.

“Business continued to boom. To some guys it became a home away from home. We had such crowds every day that sometimes the beat cops would knock on the door and ask that the people who were double- or triple-parked move their cars. The only reason I can think of that they didn’t try to shut us down is that they thought it was just a social club.

“Pretty soon I was fencing stolen property too. Guys started coming in to get rid of hot jewelry, mink coats, televisions, weapons, and audio equipment. You name it, they brought it. Some days I was able to pocket thousands of dollars without leaving my chair.”

With all that money rolling in, Andrew took certain precautions to protect it from the law and limit his liability in the event of a raid.

“I had two places close by that I used to stash money when I thought we had too much cash on hand. One was two doors down at a deli my friend owned. The other was an
apartment I kept a couple of blocks away. By keeping a relatively small amount on the premises, we wouldn’t lose it all in the event of a pinch. And the charges if I got arrested were more serious the higher the amount of money seized. So I kept a smaller bank, but the money was close enough that I could get it fast if somebody hit a big win.

“The success of the horse room earned me a nickname from Nicky. Every time I reported to him the profits were soaring, so he started calling me ‘Good News.’”

Andrew wasn’t the only one Nicky Corozzo heard good news from early in the year. On March 13, four days before his 47
^th
birthday, he received an early present. A jury acquitted him of the federal racketeering charges for which he had been indicted in 1985. Nicky’s six remaining co-defendants, including John Gotti, also left the courtroom as free men. Everybody walked. The government’s case, which had once seemed so strong, had failed to produce a single guilty verdict.

Leading up to and during the trial, Gotti had predicted that very outcome. That confident forecast could have been made by an innocent man who trusted the criminal-justice system or perhaps one with great faith in the abilities of his lawyer. However, in this case, another option seems more likely. Gotti had reason to believe that at the worst, the trial would end in a hung jury.

As the jurors left the courtroom, Gotti, the other defendants, their lawyers, and supporters gave them a standing ovation. As Gotti was heading for the door, a reporter asked him how he and his associates were able to prevail. Gotti pointed to the now-empty jury box and said, “With these people here.” But it may have been more appropriate had he said, “Thanks to Mr. Pape.”

George H. Pape was the jury foreman for the 1987 trial. On February 24, 1992, after years of rumor and speculation that Gotti had inside help in his string of victories over government prosecutors, Mr. Pape was indicted for selling his vote and exerting influence on the other jurors to vote in Gotti’s favor. He’d collected $60,000 for his services.

In Pape’s subsequent trial, Mob turncoat Sammy Gravano provided crucial testimony on behalf of the government regarding the Mob’s arrangement with Pape to assure there would not be a conviction. Pape was convicted and sentenced to three years in prison. But although the acquittal may have been tainted, it was an acquittal nonetheless.

Over time, Andrew had his share of problems with members of crews from other crime families, particularly the Gaspipe Casso faction of the Luccheses. However, he also developed friendships or at least working relationships with others. And contrary to what some may believe, associating or committing crimes with members of other families didn’t violate Mob protocol. There was one caveat, though, as Andrew explains.

“If you wanted to commit crimes with guys from another family it was okay. But you had to remember one thing. At the end of the day, your loyalty had to be with your own crew and family. When I was out there earning with these guys, I had to make sure I kicked some of the money up to Nicky. And if trouble ever broke out between crews or factions, my loyalty was to Nicky and nobody else.”

Andrew conducted his various business ventures according to that rule. Nicky received financial benefits from all of Andrew’s endeavors. And if push ever came to shove, Andrew’s gun would be on Nicky’s side.

Because it was all about making money, Andrew sometimes
did business with individuals he didn’t like. One example was his involvement with Robert, a drug dealer associated with the Teddy Persico crew of the Colombo family.

“This Robert was kind of an asshole. I didn’t like him and neither did Mike Yannotti. But he had connections at Kennedy Airport for drugs to be flown in—I believe they originated in Arizona. When the drugs got to Kennedy, Robert’s people set them aside for him to pick up. They were making a fortune and I made a deal with Robert to get in on the action. It was a good marriage, but it only lasted a few months.

“In June I got a phone call in the middle of the night saying that Mike Yannotti had been involved in a shooting at a club called the Player’s Lounge. It was a Colombo hangout and some of the Gambinos went there, including Sammy Gravano’s Bensonhurst crew.

“I don’t know exactly what caused it, but on this particular night, there was an altercation between Mike and Robert. Later that night, they found Robert in his car in a parking lot at Caesar’s Bay Bazaar on Shore Parkway. He was bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds. He was in bad shape for a while, but he survived.

“The next day Mike Yannotti called me. We still had that rivalry thing going in our personal relationship. When it came to business, though, we were a team. Mike admitted that he’d shot Robert. And then he told me that I was spending all my time at the horse room or with the other guys I’d become involved with in the drug operation. He said he could use my help and I needed to spend more time with him and my own crew. He asked me to keep away from the Colombos until the dust cleared over Robert’s shooting. That would happen after Teddy Persico and Nicky had a sit-down [a personal meeting] to resolve the matter. I said okay.

“Next we talked about what we’d do if there were any repercussions over the shooting before Teddy and Nicky got together. We were particularly concerned about this kid Frank
Smith who worked for Teddy. He was a stone-cold shooter. He’d kill you in a minute. So in case Frank or anybody came after Mike, we made plans for how we’d dispose of them.

“My loyalty was to Mike and helping him was the right thing to do. It cost me big, though. I went from making up to eight thousand a week, split between me and two associates, to making nothing. Those things happened. I know that I put a lot of pressure on my friends at times too. I asked them to do things that probably hurt them financially. But that’s the way it was.

“Eventually, Teddy and Nicky had their sit-down and everything was squashed. But you don’t just come back from being shot and forget about it. Robert didn’t; he held a grudge. We’d see each other from time to time. When we did, we’d talk. But I was always aware of my surroundings and knew that I’d never be able to get careless around Robert or his friends.”

In an interesting coincidence, two other men were shot and killed the same night Mike Yannotti shot Robert. Their names were Eddie and Vincent Carini. The Carini brothers were also associated with the Colombos. They were notorious killers and hung around with the equally dangerous Frank Smith. Andrew explains the story behind their murders.

“In 1986 Carmine Persico was convicted on federal racketeering charges and sentenced to life plus thirty-nine years in prison. The following March he sent word to his crew that he wanted a federal prosecutor named William Aronwald killed. The order to set up the hit went to Joel Cacace, who was also known as Joe Waverly. Cacace assigned the Carini brothers and Frank Smith to handle it.

“Supposedly, Cacace wrote the name Aronwald on a slip of paper and gave it to the Carinis and Smith. But they made a mistake and killed the guy’s father instead. He was an administrative law judge who handled parking tickets. He had nothing to do with prosecuting organized crime. As punishment
for botching the hit, Cacace had the Carini brothers murdered three months later. They were found dead in separate cars on a block in Sheepshead Bay the same night Mike Yannotti did Robert. It was a bad night for the Colombos.”

For unknown reasons, Frank Smith didn’t make Cacace’s hit list. But apparently fearing for his life and having fallen out of favor with the Colombos, Smith later became a government witness. Andrew believes he knows exactly why the killer turned on his colleagues.

“Frank did a lot of work [shootings] for the Colombos. He was loyal to them and even took a fifteen-year sentence for a crime he didn’t commit to protect somebody else. He served every day of it and kept his mouth shut. His thanks was that while he was away, his crew gave his family no support. When he asked them for help, they ignored him. And when he asked to be released from the Colombos to join a Lucchese family crew, they said no. Eventually, Frank learned the same lessons I did: that in organized crime, the bosses demand loyalty and respect from the bottom up. It’s a one-way street; it doesn’t come from the top down. They expect the street guys to take it on the chin for the team. But when a soldier needs their support, it’s not there. The bosses of today treat their people like shit and then they can’t understand it when somebody flips. I’ve got news for them. What goes around comes around.”

As for Joel Cacace, on August 13, 2004, he pleaded guilty to racketeering charges. He admitted his role in the Aronwald murder and was sentenced to 20 years in prison.

Not all of Andrew’s pals were criminals. Gilbert was one of his closest legitimate friends. In the late summer Gilbert was having problems with Robert Arena, a member of the Domenico “Danny” Cutaia crew of the Lucchese family. Gilbert
had been summoned to meet with Arena. Fearing he might be in danger, he asked Andrew to accompany him.

Andrew knew Arena from the neighborhood. He was a couple of years younger than Andrew and stood well over six feet and weighed around 250 pounds. Not intimidated by Arena’s size or affiliations, Andrew agreed to go to the meeting with Gilbert.

When they arrived at the meeting location, Andrew waited in the car as Gilbert and Arena met on the street. Almost immediately, Arena started to punch Gilbert. Andrew left the car and walked toward the combatants. He describes what happened next.

“Robert noticed me approaching them. He turned toward me and smiled, then he gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. He asked me how I’d been, what was going on, and what was the matter. I told him Gilbert was my friend and I couldn’t let this happen. I said I didn’t know what this thing was all about and I wasn’t saying who was right or wrong. I just didn’t want my friend hurt.

“Robert said it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be worked out. He was just pissed off, because he thought Gilbert was acting like a punk. Robert and I took a walk and talked things over. When we passed his car, a couple of his friends were inside. The father of one of them was a captain in the Gambino family. We talked for a while and then went back to Gilbert and him and Robert talked. Things got worked out right then and there were no more problems between them. Robert and me became fast friends from that point forward.”

Around September or October, Andrew learned from Dina that he was going to be a father. The news was exciting at the time. But looking back at it now, Andrew questions whether people like him should want wives and children.

“It was selfish for a guy like me to want a family of my own. I couldn’t be there for them, because I was married to the crime family. I think the only reason guys like me want to get married or have kids is to be able to fit in with the normal society. But I wasn’t thinking like that back then.”