Lion in the Basement Growing up in the Gallo Crime Family Read online

  Most of the time we hung out at "Ju-Ju's Pool Room" on Court Street, between Butler Street and Douglass Street. In the old days before Ju-Ju took it over it was "Patty's Pool Room." Ju-Ju's father was an old time wise guy from New York, in the Gambino family. "Mr Leone" told Ju-Ju to take over the pool room so he had a place to come when he was in Brooklyn.

  I met Ju-Ju a few months earlier when Marty's seven year old nephew came running to Douglass Street crying that some guy from the poolroom kicked him in the ass, for nothing. So I went around to the poolroom and asked who hit the kid.? It was Ju-Ju. I said that he should keep his hands off the kid, he asked me who I was. I said, "I was Frankie, Ricky's son from President," Street he smiled and said "OK". I didn't know at the time he knew my Dad, that's why he was so nice.

  He could have kicked my ass from one corner to the other. He called my father and told him how we met and that he liked the way I conducted myself.

  After that Ju would ask me to go to the "Esplanade Lounge" on Bay Fiftieth and Cropsey Avenue in Brooklyn, to pick up "Shylock" money, I would drive. That was the start of a 30 year friendship.

  Mean while the Gallo's were still under the Colombo family rule, but ran a small crew about, 60 guys. Let me tell you they were feared, cruel, and tough. They had to be, they were so small in numbers and always fucked with the big crime families and lasted through out the 60's. They had their hands in everything; gambling, loan sharking, construction, bars, restaurants, cigarettes, music, not drugs.

  The Gallo had control of bookies and sports betting in Bed-Sty, pinball games and the Jukebox Union. Nobody could have a jukebox or cigarette machine without paying them, not even wise guys.

  One time in the old days, Joey went to Joe Valahci and told him he got to put one of their jukebox's in his place. Valahci said "Joey was one crazy fuck, he was like a mad man." Valahci said, "he was going to pay anyway, because they had too." Joey didn't need to be that crazy, Joey was just a madman.

  The summer of 1970, we got a call that we had to go to Columbus Circle for "The Italian American Civil Right League" rally. I went with my father, Roy Roy, Bobby Darrow and Steven Cirillo. Everyone was very uncomfortable going, and we got out as soon as we could. We all knew Joey was getting out of jail soon and he didn't like Joe Colombo.

  At the end of the year I started going with my father and some friends to the "San Su San Nightclub" it was owned by Sonny Francesse it was in Mineola LI. We also went to "Sonny's Pan Am Hotel" in Queens, all the boys went there from all the families. We saw Jimmy Roselli and Joe Barone and Lilly Ann Carol at these clubs.

  One night at the "San Su San" I was drinking Scotch and water, I had 10 or more drinks, I know I put a hurting on the bottle I was feeling no pain! On the way home my father told me to drive. I wasn't old enough to have a permit, but Ricky taught me how to stay cool and watch my rear view mirror to see if we were being followed. I would remember to do that the rest of my life.

  After that I started driving Ricky where ever he needed to go. If he had to go to Queens to the "Golden Chariot" to see Patty "Mac" Macchiarole, "A Capo" in the Genovese family to bring him tripe "Mac" liked how my Uncle Joey "Click Click" made tripe. Sometimes I'd dive Ricky down to President Street to see the "Blast."

  I started picking up my Godfather Bobby Darrow, he was a character. He lived in the Sutton Apartments on Ocean Parkway. I used to go in the apartment and he would be sitting all dressed up having a cup of coffee. I would have a cup with him then he would open a window and throw the rest of the coffee out the window and say "the dead need their coffee in the morning too," next to the apartment was a cemetery. Till this day, I really don't know how "crazy" he was.

  My Mom and Dad had a summer house in Freeport, Long Island. I was the one who had to drive Bobby Darrow there, I don't think Bobby drove. We would go there in the summer and some weekends, whenever we could. In the summer we had everyone from the crew there, Blast, Louie the Syrian, Punchy, Roy Roy, Steven Cirillo, and Al Goldstein. They would stay a few days, my Mom would cook for everyone. We had a pool and a big back yard, so we ate out there most of the time. The neighbors use to see Caddy's pull up and all these guys that where just in the newspapers coming over, they would run in their houses! We didn't see our neighbors the whole summer, between the Italian music and the yelling, when we "were talking" I would have run away too! We once had a fourth of July party out there in 1971, the guys brought some fireworks over, when they set it off they blew out the windows in the house, when the cops came we said that some kids threw them and ran, the cops asked for id's. Blast went and hid in the basement, you had to see the cops faces when they found out who these guys were! Then they asked them how long they were staying, they said for the weekend. We then saw an unmarked police car on the corner for the rest of the summer.

  One night we were all drinking some homemade wine that Bobby brought over, we all got lit.

  When we all went to bed Bobby left and went to where we docked a 21 foot boat "The crazy kat," that we owned. About five o'clock in the morning we hear a knock on the door it was the cops, they ask Dad if he knew the guy sitting in the police car. Bobby was sitting in the back of the police car in handcuffs with a smirk on his, face like the cat who got caught eating the bird. My father laughed and said "yes" they said he was picked up by the harbor police for drinking and driving a boat. He had no papers for it so they were going to arrest him, but he kept saying it was Ricky's boat: They just gave him a ticket and told him to stay out of the water. When Bobby got in the house he was upset, he just lost a new gun that he had to throw in the water when the cop boat came. Ricky said "what were you doing out there"? Bobby said "I was fishing for dinner," Dad said "you didn't bring no fishing pole!" He said he was "shooting" the fish! My Godfather was a nut! We had many parties out there and it was great seeing everyone smiling and laughing, it would be over soon. Things started to change as soon as Joey hit President Street. I'll never forget the day Joey Gallo came home from prison.

  It was the summer of 1971, I was on President Street with goombaile when Joey Gallo pulled up to the club in this big black caddy, got out and looked right at me and said "you're Ricky's kid?" I said "Yeah." He said, "You know if something ever happens to Ricky, you always have a home on the block! I said "thanks". he pinched my cheeks and started to walk away. He stopped and turned and said to me, "do me a favor kid, go wash the car", he smiled, I smiled, then me and Goomba washed his car. I saw Joey a few times more, he wasn't staying much on the block. Soon after Ricky told me to get off the block for a while, the cops were all over the place, that Joey was fucking with Joe Colombo and he knew he wasn't fucking around. The minute Joey got home he started to fuck with Joe. He told everyone in the crew not to go to Colombo or his crew, not to bring any money, or scores to Joe. Don't go drinking at any of his bars and no more partnerships with any of Joes crew. Which was a nightmare, because a ton of things we did were with Joes other crews. A lot of the guys have been doing business since the war ended in 1964.

  Even though Larry pretty much ran his crew like he was the boss of the family, any sit-downs or moves had to go though Colombo. After Larry died Blast slacked off and was listening to Joe. Now that Joey was home, he laid down the rules., "fuck him!"

  Steven Cirillo, Bobby Darrow, Joann, Mom, Tony, Joann, Al Goldstein,

  Phil, Bobby Darrow, Gina Goldstein,

  Albert "Kid Blast" Gallo

  Emily, Louie the Syrian, Louise

  CHAPTER 10

  The Mod Squad

  Albert "Blast" Gallo the youngest of the three Gallo brothers, was pretty much in charge of the new and up coming hoods called "The Mod Squad." It was the end of the 60's and the beginning of the 70's. The "wise guy" look has changed a little, the hair and sideburns got longer, bell bottoms were in, some of the new guys didn't look like hoods, they looked like "Hippies". Blast had his hands full, these guys didn't follow none of the old rules. They were drinking smoking pot and out being flashy and telling people to "go f
uck themselves," so he had to try and control them. "The Mod Squad" were also getting into new schemes, the times were changing.

  Blast was like an uncle and mentor to me. He could have asked anything of me and I would not have refused. He yelled at me when I had growing pains and complemented me when he saw fit. Being young he never asked me to do anything to put me in harms way, plus I was "Ricky's son" and he didn't want to fuck with Ricky by sending me to do something wrong because if I got in trouble, he knew he would have a problem with Ricky. Ricky was with Alberts brother Larry for many years and was like a fourth brother. If there was a problem they'd call Ricky. I ran the streets for many years with the strength of being with the Gallo, but being "Ricky's son" carried even more weight. After we left the Gallo's I stood up for Blast when people were saying not very nice things about him, because if your with someone its got to be all the way, and he never did anything wrong to me that I would have a hard on for him. I did my part but at the end I was the only one who did, he did not do his.

  Then there was Steven Gallo the son of Larry Gallo the one my family called son, and my kids called Uncle, we were close. Then he broke my fathers heart, we no longer see eye to eye, I don't want to speak bad about him in the book. He has no way defend himself so I was asked not to write about him, but it shows you how you just can't trust people no matter who they are or how close you are with them. Even after all the good times and bad times, the birth of my children, New Years parties, BBQ'S, funerals, weddings. I was putting my ass on the line with these guys all for nothing, just to have my family thrown to the wolves, specially my mother. Robert "Bobby Darrow" Bongivoni, born May 28th, 1937 died May 17th, 2011 in prison. My Godfather, and cousin to Rocco Miraglia a "Capo" with Joe Colombo. A born psychopath from the streets of "East Flatbush." He was one of the "Farragut Road boys" by the time he was 21 he had killed two guys, and on the way to the "Gallo family", a true madman. He loved his Scotch and his pot, acted like every day was his last day on earth. His only function was to kill, he would sit around just waiting for the call! He had a great smile and he was a real "ladies man," he had many pretty women. I drove him around for two years, he was "one of a kind". When Darrow walked in a room you knew it. Steven Cirillo was killed August 4th, 1974, he was 31 years old, He was a great guy, if you saw him in the street you'd think he was just the guy next store. He was a Red Hook born, tough one, no fucking fear, he was one of the family's shooters. I was with him on President Street for two years, day and night. He was a good guy, but deadly. I spent many nights with him and his wife Joann, going for dinners in the city. The night before he was killed my parents, me and Emily went to dinner and drinks at "La Margarita" it was one of the top clubs in the city. We had a great night the next day it was a nightmare, my hearts still broken. He was the first one killed, at the start of the "second war" with the Colombo's. They killed him infront of his wife. Preston Geritano, another one that got a bad deal from the Gallo family, was a real weird guy born in Red Hook, also a Gallo shooter. He was a man of few words, And had eyes that gleamed. You would look at him and you just didn't want to fuck with him.

  He had two brothers in the crew, one tough family, always showed respect to me and my father. We were close to him, in the 80's, he was released to the Genovese family. He was killed by his brother in law, April 22nd, 2004. Bobby Boriello, was killed April 13th, 1991, 47 years old, a real "home grown" tough guy 6'6", always smiling. He called everyone "mugs", and hit like a mull. I spent many nights with him and his wife before he went to jail. While in jail he met John Gotti, when he got out of jail he got released to the Gambino's. He was a shooter and had his hands into everything, it was a big loss for the Gallo family. He was a money maker and one that was respected and feared. If you needed anything you'd ask Bobby. When he came over to our house he would say "Dolly, got a minute?" My Mom would go over to him and say "Bobby whats up?," he would say "I like your apron", then reach over and stick "fagazy" credit cards in her apron pocket, then laugh and say "go use them now." He didn't have to do that, he was just that type of guy. If he was doing well, his friends were going to do well. We stood close to the day he died. Big loss to my family. If you knew Bobby, you would know why.

  Steven Boriello brother of Bobby, also got a bum deal from the Gallo's. He's still living, real "home grown" a tough one from Clinton Street in Red Hook. You wish there were 100 guys like Steven B. We had a ton of fun in the old days, he was like a big brother to me. We haven't spoken in a while. His mind was poisoned by Mister G, I respect him and will leave it at ghat. His father Patty was a good man he's truly missed.

  Tony "The Beard" Bernardo, Was a real character, small in frame with gleaming blue eyes. he had balls bigger then bowling balls!, He was in on many hits. He was on the hit when they took out the lawyer, Bob Waswaasser. I don't think he was 5'5 and a hundred and forty pounds, you couldn't tell if he liked you or not. Thank god he liked me! He was partners with his pal Angelo P for years, then he ran away in the 1980'S with a ton of Gallo "Shylock"money. Heard he died of natural causes.

  Joe "The Rican" Castro a Puerto Rican from the streets of Brooklyn, not too smart, but there if you needed him. He would kill with no remorse, He took me on my first two scores.

  He used to come to the house to pick up Ricky a few times a week. When guys had to ride two in a car, a big guy 6' two hundred and sixty pounds, mean as they come! He killed his girlfriends doctor, he thought she was cheating on him. He's doing life in prison.

  Anthony "Goombaile" Russo, my good friend, always with a smile. I think its all the pot he smoked. He was born in South Brooklyn, I spent a lot of nights with him from 1970 to 1986. He was one of the young guys on President Street. Roy told him to watch over me. That was a bad idea, after a few weeks we were out doing scores, drinking every night, and getting into arguments. We went partners taking bets with football tickets and we did well. He went on the screw route with me. We opened a club on 6th Ave and 20th Street in Brooklyn. Whatever we could do wrong, we did it, and laugh about it as we did it! At one point he started to sleep at my house, so he could get up at five o'clock in the morning to drive Emily to work in Long Island, five days a week, a loyal guy, who would do anything for you. Many years after, we went our different ways. I called him for a favor and he'd said "yes", thank God I didn't "need" the favor, but he was there, willing to go. One of my true friends.

  Ralphie "Goodness," Ralphie was once married to Blast's sister-in law, who was with the Gallos from the 60's. He was a fixture at the "Coco Poodle," a professional gambler and theif. I was told when it was time to fight he had your back but wasn't good with, his hands, but was there. He was a "pretty boy," always worried about his looks, he'd dress to the tee's. I just found out he was in touch with my friend Sonny Girard. Sonny just told me he died in Florida, while cooking a sauce at home.

  Anthony "Bull Eye" Prano, Steven G's "other half," we called them "Martini and Rossie." They went everywhere together, Bull Eye was a small guy with thick rimmed glasses. I still don't know what his function was. I also have to mention some other guys who where on the block in the 70's, they were young Frank "Procriotto" Faella, my dear friend, born in Red Hook, he was with me and Goomba on President Street thought it all. Frank was a real street guy, a throw back from the "old gangster days," one tough fuck, lost his way and we lost him to the "babonya," died to young.

  Vincent Capisce "Vinnie", still alive and is living in "The Hook." A guy that is well liked by many people, my father was one of them. All I can say is if you needed something, go ask Vinnie, he was a "stand up guy," that was very close to Roy Roy. Coco was a young Puerto Rican kid from the neighborhood. I don't think he was even ten years old, he looked as old as us and acted it. My "man" Coco was there all though the "war." If you needed something ask Coco. He cooked for us and ran for anything we needed. He Left after the "war." I think he joined the police force I hope so.

  A guy we call "Red", still living, was Punchys right hand man for years, a fixture in Red Ho
ok, a stand up guy. Haven't seen much of him in a while, he had to be a good guy to stay with Punchy for so long.

  John "The Arab" another Red Hook born guy, we both lived on Douglass Street when we were young. He was close to Roy Roy. I spent a lot of nights drinking with him in the club. John had his hands in everything. If you needed him he was there with no fear. His mind was also poisoned by Mister G too, but I got to speak to him and got him to see the light. I was friends with him till at end. He died too young, his liver went bad.

  Then there is Richie, still alive, and well, I know him for forty years. He was loyal to Punchy and was there for him till the day Punchy died. If you would see Punchy, you'd see Richie. Many men would love to have a friend like Richie.

  There were many guys that came to President Street to do business. Many would come and go, but in the end, there wasn't many guys left in the Gallo crew. These days, if your not going to make money, you were gone, there is no loyalty. People like to use the words "omerta" or "la costa nosta" I'll bet you not one of these people had lived the life, and has ever gotten burnt. "Its easy to have shit come out of your mouth".

  Mom and Steven Cirillo at the Club on President Street

  Louie The Syrian Hubella

  Bull Eye, Bobby Boriello and Roy Roy at the Club

  Ricky, Bobby Darrow, Roy Roy in Prison visiting Bobby

  Anthony Goombaiel a friend from the Old Days

  CHAPTER 11

  Joey's Home

  When Joey came home there was a "pow wow" with all the "regulars" at the club on President Street. He was fucking ranting that Joe Colombo was fucking his crew out of a ton of money and that Blast was sucking up to Joe too much. He said that Colombo gives some shit ties as gifts for Xmas every year and Blast gave Joe fat envelopes or golf clubs, Joey said no more.