Surviving the Mob (17 page)

“I immediately called my friend Robert Arena and his partner and asked if they’d be interested in buying thousands of the counterfeits at a time. A few hours later they were at my apartment and our first sale was made.

“To celebrate, we took a few thousand dollars of the bogus money and went out to a sports bar. The first round
of drinks came to thirty dollars or so and I paid with a fake hundred. Now we had a new earn. We’d go from club to club buyin’ drinks and breakin’ the bills. I took ten thousand in phony money and turned it into a full-time job to cash as many bills as possible each day. We made a killing.

“These bills were top-quality counterfeits. They were so good that when Billy got in debt to a bookie for fifteen grand on bad baseball bets, he paid the guy off with three thousand of real money and the other twelve in counterfeit. It took months for the guy to find out and make a beef.

“I was still kicking money up to Nicky once in a while and I gave him a little from the money scam. But he was still pissed off about all the time I was spending with Billy.

“It came to a head one day when I went to see him about a new business I was thinking about getting into. I knew I was in trouble when I got to the club and one of the guys gave me a warning. He said, ‘When you talk with that guy [Nicky], no matter what he says, agree with him. If he tells you the walls are purple and the sky is maroon, you say okay. Understand?’ I understood. I was on thin ice and if I argued with Nicky, I might not leave the club alive.

“When I saw Nicky, he said, ‘So I hear you wanna be released from the crew.’ Remembering the warning I’d been given, I told him I’d thought about it, but hoped we could work things out. And then he let me have it with both barrels. He said, ‘If I liked you, I’d entertain the idea of your release. But I don’t, so you have only one alternative. You were born here and you’ll die here. And from now on, start bringing guys in the crew with you when you earn.’

“I knew at that moment my crewmate had given me good advice. If I didn’t agree, my life would have been taken from me that day. So I assured Nicky there was no problem. I’d do whatever he asked. As I said those things, I knew my road with Nicky from then on would be hard and dangerous. The chances of him ever pushing to get me straightened out [become
made] were remote, no matter how much I deserved it. I’d be overlooked until he taught me a lesson. And then if I started to kiss his ass like some of the other guys, maybe he’d have a change of heart. I made up my mind that he’d have to wait until hell froze over for that. I walked out of that meeting on my own power. But I knew it could easily have gone the other way.”

As July approached, Andrew was getting ready for what was to be his first official parole hearing. In the eyes of the system, he’d accomplished 10 months of steady employment without incident. He hadn’t been in trouble with the law or had any other difficulties that might hinder his chances for parole. Even the matter of his picture being shown at the grand jury was still a non-issue due to the slow identification process. The only thing Andrew had against him was the severity of his crime.

Even with all that going for him, he was extremely apprehensive. He committed so many crimes while on the work program that he walked into the hearing room expecting a shoe to drop. Just the night before, he was involved in a major drug deal with some Gambino associates from the 17
^th
Avenue faction.

“To my total surprise, I was out of the hearing in minutes. I was told I showed a positive change and looked like I was on the road to rehabilitation, and they gave me a release date for early September. At that point I was walking on air.”

Andrew had every right to be happy. His work-release jobs had been scams. He’d violated almost every program rule and resumed his life of crime as soon as he got outside of Edgecombe’s gate for the first time. He was walking a fine line with Nicky Corozzo. But he’d gotten away with it all.

14

Andrew was still walking on air when he attended his first official parole meeting a day after being released. He entered the office anticipating that he’d meet his parole officer, who would give him the rules and send him on his way. He had another thing coming.

He walked in, asked for his newly appointed parole officer, and was taken to his office where FBI agents and NYPD detectives immediately put him in handcuffs and told him his house was being searched. Somebody had called parole and told them Andrew was running drug and counterfeit-money rings. They had photos of him with known gangsters, probably the same surveillance images they had at the grand jury. But now they’d had identified him.

Then the parole officer said that if they found any evidence at Andrew’s mother’s house, they’d hit him with new charges, plus a parole violation.

“I couldn’t fuckin’ believe it. My first parole meeting and I was already in cuffs. And after the search was done, I knew they’d lock me up and throw away the key.

“Then I realized something. They were searching my mother’s house. Whoever had dropped the dime on me must not have known about the other apartment, filled to the rafters with a new load of pot and the rest of the counterfeit
money. But there was nothing illegal at my mother’s. They weren’t goin’ to find a goddamn thing. I’m pretty sure a smile crossed my face when it hit me that I was home free.

“About five hours later, the search came up clean. The parole officer was on fire, he was so mad. What he undoubtedly thought was going to be a big feather in his cap had turned out to be nothing. His supervisor walked in and said that since they couldn’t violate me, the most they could do to bust my balls was put me on a curfew. That meant I had to be at my mother’s—really at my mother’s—from seven at night until seven in the morning. My social life would go down to zero and business would suffer. But at least I wouldn’t be locked up. Billy Cutolo got me a parole lawyer to fight the curfew on the grounds that it was harassment. After about a month, it was lifted on the condition I transfer out of Brooklyn.”

Through exceptional good fortune and the help of Billy Cutolo, Andrew had managed to survive his first altercation with the parole people relatively unscathed. However, his friend Billy was in hot water of his own.

For the past nine months, Billy had been delivering payments to a number of lawyers to cover the legal fees for Wild Bill and all of his father’s incarcerated crew members. On this particular day, Billy was in a panic; he didn’t have all the money he needed to pay the lawyers. Andrew was a little surprised. It was common knowledge that Wild Bill was worth a fortune.

What Andrew didn’t know was that when Wild Bill was incarcerated, he gave Billy access to a certain amount of money to cover legal expenses. What happened to that money? Andrew refuses to speculate about it. Whatever the reason, Billy ended up short. He knew that if the lawyers didn’t get paid, his father would find out about it immediately and wonder about the rest of the money. So Billy stalled for a few days to put together the necessary cash. The pressure was on and he called in all outstanding debts.

“I owed about fifteen thousand myself for money I’d borrowed for my shylocking business. When I tried to collect the principal from one or two of the bigger loans I had out, my customers couldn’t do it. One of them was my friend Mike Bolino. He was already backed up a few weeks and had just gotten pinched on top of it. This put a strain on the relationship between Billy and me, but we still worked together to try to find a solution to his problem.

“At this time I was dealing a lot of marijuana with Robert Arena from the Lucchese crew. But I wasn’t making anywhere near the money Billy needed to get out from under those lawyers. What I did do was front him about twenty pounds of pot that he could sell himself on the street. I thought that with Billy’s connections to some major pot movers, it could have been a great opportunity for a steady earn for him. But Billy never made a payment for the pot. I knew I owed him a lot, so I let it go. Besides, Robert and me had started moving some big numbers and shaking down drug dealers as well. So some pretty good money was now coming in. I’d still see Billy and have dinners and hang out, but the money situation had consumed him.

“In December, Wild Bill’s trial was underway. I went to court a few times with Billy to show support for his dad. About a week before Christmas, Wild Bill and his crew were acquitted. I went to the party they threw at Wild Bill’s social club. After having been away myself, I knew the pure joy they were experiencing just to be free. But that mood wore off quickly when Wild Bill started to inquire about how his money had been spent while he was locked up. That led to some dark days for Billy and a shitload of trouble for me too.”

15

Starting in 1995, Andrew’s life began a roller-coaster ride that made the previous years seem tame by comparison. The first week of January was an indication of a bumpy year. It began on a down note when he was summoned to a business meeting at Wild Bill Cutolo’s social club. The just-out-of-jail gangster was trying to find out what had happened to the money he’d entrusted to his son while he was behind bars. And he thought Andrew knew where at least some of it had gone.

“Wild Bill said that according to Billy’s records, I owed twenty-five thousand and he wanted to know when I was going to pay it back. I told him in no uncertain terms that the amount was actually about fifteen thousand and it was money that Billy and I put out on the street. He didn’t like that. He said, ‘You’re tellin’0 me my son’s a shylock? Billy’s no loanshark.’

“I think what happened is that Billy had gone through that money somehow and did a little creative accounting to cover it up. So if somebody owed ten thousand, Billy put it down as twenty. Regardless, I didn’t like Wild Bill’s attitude. I told him, ‘You called me in here to discuss this money and now you’re treating me like a fuckin’ mutt? Like I can’t be trusted? Do you wanna hear the truth or don’t ya? Because
if you think I took that money to go sit on a beach with my wife, you’re out of your mind.’

“Billy still owed Robert Arena and me fifteen thousand or so for the marijuana we fronted him. I never pushed for it and I didn’t want to tell Wild Bill about it. I figured it was up to Billy to explain to his father that he’d gotten into the drug business.

“Our talk wasn’t gettin’ anywhere. Wild Bill said as far as he was concerned, I owed him twenty-five thousand. I told him he couldn’t get twenty-five. The amount was fifteen and Billy was involved in the loans whether he wanted to hear it or not. After that I left and went on my way.”

Meanwhile, Andrew was still waiting for final approval transferring his parole from Brooklyn to Staten Island.

“I was dating a girl whose father was associated with the Genovese family. He was a street guy like me and I really liked him. She got me an apartment in Staten Island and I was waiting for the parole people to okay the move.

“It was kinda funny, because Robert Arena and me had the same parole officer in Brooklyn. Sometimes I was at Robert’s house counting the pounds of pot or something when this guy showed up. We weren’t supposed to associate, so Robert stashed the pot while I jumped out the back window and hid in the shed.

“This particular parole officer was real strict with us. In the parole office, most of the guys waiting to see him would sit around the waiting room shooting the breeze and he didn’t say shit to them. But if he saw Robert and me talking, he’d tell us to shut up or he’d violate us.

“Thankfully, my transfer to Staten Island got approved and I was able to get away from that prick. The trouble was that I lost my job at the Gregory Hotel when my relationship with Wild Bill went sour. And the parole people wanted me to show that I had a means of earning an income. I told them that I was going to be self-employed and was opening
a carpet-cleaning company. I called it Andrew’s Clean Machine. One of the guys I’d used the previous year to help me pass the counterfeit money gave me two floor cleaners. I’d never cleaned a carpet in my life and had no intention of doing so, but it allowed me to stay on the streets and gave me a way to account for my money. I made up phony receipts and took them to my parole officer every week. They showed I was making enough to pay my bills and put a few dollars in the bank. It worked perfect with no questions asked.”

With the parole matter resolved, Andrew turned his attention to a personal matter. A problem with one of his sisters’ husbands had developed while he was in prison: He was not only verbally abusive, he put his hands on her. Andrew confronted him and told him he had two choices. He could act like a man and do what he was supposed to do or Andrew would put him in the trunk of a car. The choice was his.

“He gave me the excuse that he’d been in a bad way when the abuse took place. He’d gotten into drugs and wasn’t himself. I told him my concern was the well-being of my sister and her children. If he could straighten up, fine. If not, he should do himself a favor and take a walk.