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The trial started on January 2, 1970. The courtroom was an armed camp, the doors guarded by federal marshals, all spectators screened by an electronic metal detector. In the pattern they were to follow again in the Addonizio trial, Lacey and Stem divided the prosecution choresLacey delivering the opening and closing arguments to the jury, Stem presenting the evidence. Unlike the Colonial case, the prosecution wasn't confronted with legal giants like Edward Bennett Williams or Simon Rifkind. DeCarlo and his associates were represented by men known around the courthouse as "mob lawyers" lawyers Lacey once described as "men who turn up time and time again representing the same type of client." DeCarlo's counsel was Michael Direnzo, a New York lawyer whom, according to a cocounsel, DeCarlo had "known for a considerable portion of his adult life." Cecere's lawyer was Michael Querques, a veteran of the local courtrooms, who, it was learned in midtrial, had advised the defendants during the course of the alleged conspiracy; his counsel to a union of IRS employees had recently come under Lacey's fire. Polverino's counsel was Samuel Bozza, whose voice repeatedly appeared on what came, to be called "the DeCarlo tapes." From the DeCavalcante tapes, it was obvious that DeCarlo had also been "bugged." The defense asked for the transcripts, but it was careful not to repeat Franzblau's mistake. It asked that the disclosure be limited to the defense. Judge Robert Shaw, a no-nonsense Kennedy appointee who looked like Jack Dempsey in his heyday, ruled that he would read the transcripts and decide when and how they would be turned over. After the jury of seven men and five women was empaneled, Judge Shaw ordered them sequestered for the remainder of the trial. The following day, over vehement defense objections, he filed the 1200-page transcript of the DeCarlo tapes with the court clerk, where it was in the public domain. There was a mad scramble in the clerk's office as reporters climbed over tables, chairs and even each other to get a peek at the transcript. From first glance it was evident that the DeCarlo tapes were even more explosive than those of DeCavalcante. Page after page revealed the extent of DeCarlo's illegal empire and the political payoffs he made to keep it going. Unlike many mobsters, DeCarlo made no pretense of putting up a legitimate "front." According to the tapes, he was once asked by Harold (Kayo) Konigsberg, a sadistic collector and enforcer for the mob, "Will you tell me why everybody loves you so?" "I'm a hoodlum," DeCarlo replied. "I don't want to be a legitimate guy. All these other racket guys who get a few bucks want to become legitimate." The heart of Ray DeCarlo's underworld empire was gambling. "Craps is getting out of existence," he once told Konigsberg. "What's coming in?" "Betting numbers, booking horses, sports. Sports is big, but so many crooked games. Basketball games are all crooked, and now and then you get a crooked football game. You get killed. You can't get anyone to take over a three-hundred-dollar bet on a fight except Demus." DeCarlo's empire also encompassed shylocking "strongest racket in the world," he said, "better than numbers or anything else and cleaner" - and the disposal of stolen goods, though he often got stuck with shoddy merchandise. Once, when DeCarlo was absent, another mobster said he'd "buy a barrel of sand on the Sahara Desert if the price is right." But DeCarlo would have nothing to do with narcotics. He claimed that Vito Genovese was "framed" on the narcotics conviction that put him in Atlanta's federal prison "Vito hated narcotics all his life" - and several times suggested stiffer penalties for dope pushers. The mob's influence, as revealed by the tapes, extended deeply into legitimate enterprises. Gambling, where legal, was a favorite. All the top mobsters had "points" in the Las Vegas casinos, and, under Batista, DeCarlo said, "the mob had a piece of every joint down there." Fidel Castro's seizure of power in Cuba forced the mobsters to seek new outlets in the Caribbean. DeCarlo and Konigsberg once discussed the possible purchase of a hotel in Jamaica. "I want you to sit down with these people," DeCarlo said. "One guy went to Europe who was here the other night. He said, 'Sure, if I thought there was any possibility of getting gambling, we would put the money up.'" "You know who I'll get it from?" Kayo asked. "Frank Sinatra." "I'm going down there next week," DeCarlo said. "I'll see Sinatra and have a talk with him." A huge poster of Sinatra hung in the Bam, and his name came up frequently in the conversations there. Once, DeCarlo related, "Tony Bennett came over to the Racquet Club [in Miami Beach] and says he's looking for this broad. I says, `What do you want?' "He says he wants this job [girl]. "I says, `What are you talking about. Frank Sinatra sent a telegram wantin' this broad. She was a beautiful thing, a real job." All the mobsters, it seemed, played "godfather" to an Italian singer. During one conversation, Pete Fusco noted that he'd persuaded Joey Bishop to book a spot for his singer, Bobby Manaro, when Bishop substituted for Jack Paar on the Tonight show. DeCarlo doubted that Manaro could sing as well as his "kid" - Mickey Roselli - and to prove it played three of Roselli's records.
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![]() the people of New York City remain safe from that gang of marauding political reprobates Sandra Roper, John O'Hara, and Judge John Phillips.
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![]() Political corruption is a tradition here. First issue in a series by Anthony Olszewski Click HERE to find out more.
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