Gangland 3/30/2023

[Dr031718]

Another Carmine Persico, Namesake Nephew Of The Late Mafia Boss, Is Now 'In The Game'

Longtime Colombo boss Carmine (Junior) Persico died in prison. His son, former acting-boss Alphonse, is serving a life sentence for murder. Persico's nephew, Theodore (Skinny Teddy) Persico, reputedly the current heir apparent to the throne, is behind bars and not expected to be released anytime soon. But the Persico clan is large, and sources say that a nephew with the same name as his legendary uncle, has arrived on the scene.

The sources say this Carmine Persico, 52, a half-brother of imprisoned capo Skinny Teddy Persico, is not viewed "at this time" as an acting member of the Administration that is running the beleaguered crime family as its leaders and Skinny Teddy contest pending racketeering charges. But they say nephew Carmine Persico is a captain who "is in the game now."

These sources say that authorities also have information that the crime family still considers Junior Persico's businessman son Michael, who has completed three years of post-prison supervised release for his loansharking conviction and lives in Saugerties NY, as "a valuable resource" and contacts him "from time to time" about matters that "concern them."

This is not to say that 66-year-old Michael Persico, or his cousin Carmine, have committed any crimes other than the ones they have been convicted of in years past, and for which they have served their time behind bars, and have successfully completed their periods of supervised release.

Unlike Michael's five-year sentence, and his long-running and unsuccessful effort to obtain a lesser one, Gang Land has not reported much about the trials and tribulations of his cousin Carmine, who has convictions for extortion and illegal gambling on his rap sheet, both tied to criminal activity by brother Skinny Teddy — until now.

His most recent conviction, for illegal gambling in 2012, stemmed from an extortion charge alleging that Carmine, with the help of his brother Teddy, tried to collect a $14,000 gambling debt from a deadbeat gambler with close ties to the Gambino family who owed the money to a bookmaker friend of Carmine's back in 2010.

Carmine, who was only a family associate at the time, agreed to do the unidentified bookie a solid, and enlisted the help of his brother Teddy, according to court records. Skinny Teddy arranged a sitdown with Gambino capo Louis (Bo) Filippelli to collect the debt but before they could meet, Teddy was arrested on racketeering charges that would end with him getting hit with a 12-year prison term.

Undaunted by his brother's arrest, Carmine decided to meet "with Filippelli on his own in an attempt to collect the debt" on the same day, March 9, 2010, that Skinny Teddy was arrested and jailed on the charges that got him a 12 year stretch behind bars, according to court records. (Gang Land hesitates to mention that cousin Michael was also arrested that day, in the case that landed him in the slammer for five years we mentioned above, but does since this is a story about the Persicos, and there are quite a few of them in the game.)

Filippelli made short shrift of Carmine's personal effort on behalf of his bookmaking buddy, but Carmine persevered, according to court filings. He reached out to capo Anthony (Big Anthony) Russo and several sitdowns later, on May 27, 2010, Filippelli gave Russo a discounted, unspecified "agreed-upon amount" to satisfy the $14,000 debt and, the court filings state, Big Anthony later gave Carmine "his portion of the proceeds, approximately $5000."

It's unclear how much of the $5000 Carmine's bookmaker buddy got, or if Carmine received something for his troubles. But on October 10, 2012, Carmine received a 16-month sentence and a year of post-prison supervised release from Brooklyn Federal Court Judge Sterling Johnson.

It was nephew Carmine's second visit to the Big House. Six years earlier, he was sentenced to 19 months in prison, and given three years of supervised release in an extortion case in which Skinny Teddy was tape recorded dressing down his brother for failing to wipe his fingerprints off a gun and the bullets he loaded in it when they were having trouble collecting a $25,000 debt from a conman.

Their problems — and their taped chat about the dirty gun — developed when a $25,000 check they had accepted for collateral for the loan had bounced, and Carmine and another cohort were unable to collect it from the guy who had gotten the cash, or his son.

Skinny Teddy was furious that they had been scammed. He was so upset that his brother and their cousin, Andre D'Apice, who had orchestrated the $25,000 caper, were unable to fix the problem, that he wanted to drive to Staten Island and "threaten the kid right now" with a loaded pistol in his hand, according to court filings.

When Teddy asked for the weapon, Carmine protested that he didn't "get a chance to clean it" and his fingerprints might be on the gun. Persico barked back: "I don't need you to clean it just give me the gun. Look, I know how to shoot, just give me the gun."

Teddy was also taped complaining that Carmine and D'Apice had brought him a gun with bullets that were "dirty" with fingerprints, and said: "They come there the fucking thing is dirty. How do you keep a pistol with fuckin' dirty bullets in it in the first place? You got an automatic pistol, you clean the bullets, you put them in the fuckin' clip, and the clip is ready, whenever you're ready."

The following year, Carmine pleaded guilty to extortion. "I agreed with Teddy Persico, Jr., and Andre D'Apice to use extortionate means to collect an extension of credit," he told Judge Carol Amon. "These acts took place in Brooklyn and in Staten Island."

In 2007, a few weeks after his sentence ended, a urine test found opiates in his system and the Probation Department cited him for a violation of supervised release. But his officer recommended only that Carmine enroll in an outpatient substance abuse program even though he questioned the budding gangster's explanation for the number of pills he had in his possession.

Persico had gotten a prescription for 120 Endocet tablets for back pain on September 24, and told the officer that more than 100 pills were gone by October 9 because he "did not like the way they made him feel" and had "flushed most of them down the toilet." This "seems unlikely," the officer wrote, because he had "paid $178 to have the prescription filled."

Carmine also "agreed to consult with his physician and explore other methods of pain management," the officer, Edward Kanaley, wrote.

That discussion was apparently successful. Persico's next dealings with the law took place in 2011, when he was arrested for trying to help his friend collect the $14,000 debt from the Gambino crime family. There was no mention of back pain in the case.

The Day A New Jersey Cop Went On The Waterfront With Elia Kazan

His name isn't in the credits, and you don't really see his face in On The Waterfront. But William (Billy Kilroy) Ramoth, a New Jersey lawman, was the guy you see playing the role of Terry Malloy in the famously brutal fight scene with dock boss Johnny Friendly.

That bloody brawl comes toward the end of the venerated movie classic that portrayed lawlessness on the docks and which helped make the case for the Waterfront Commission. The blockbuster film is still viable, and runs regularly on TV. Not so for the bi-state agency, which now appears to be on its last legs.

Ramoth was 27 at the time, and four years into what would become a 31-year-long career in law enforcement, when he walked into a Hoboken tavern in early 1954. He was wearing a leather jacket, having a beer and enjoying a day off from his job as a Clifton, New Jersey police officer when he rubbed elbows with another patron at the bar, film director Elia Kazan.

By the time Ramoth walked out, he had been signed up to work in the cast of the film about violence and mob corruption on the New York and New Jersey docks, which won eight Oscars, including one for Marlon Brando as best actor and another for Kazan as director. The gig also led him to a second career as a stuntman in a dozen movies over the next eight years.

Ramoth was already a fighter who had taken a few punches. He grew up as a street fighting teen in nearby Wallington, N.J. He began boxing seriously in 1944 after he joined the Navy at age 17, where he was undefeated in 1945 as the All Service Middleweight Champ.

After the service, he turned pro in 1946, boxing professionally as Billy Kilroy and winning his first 24 fights. He hung up his gloves four years later with a 35-7 record.

In the bar that day, Kazan asked Ramoth if he had been a fighter and told him he resembled Marlon Brando.

"I was a stand-up fighter with a fast jab and a good right hand cross," Ramoth told author Jordan Schwartz. "I was pretty fast, and I would make my opponents miss quite a bit, so they would get tired," said Ramoth, according to an article by Schwartz in bleacherreports.com.

Ramoth had taken a day off when he heard that Two Ton Tony Galento, the Orange City heavyweight who had knocked down Joe Louis in his 1939 bout at Yankee Stadium before the Brown Bomber got up off the canvas and pulverized the 5'8" 240-pound challenger, was going to be filming fight scenes for the movie, which was shot in 36 days in bars, alley ways and rooftops in Hoboken.

Kazan hired Ramoth to play Brando in his fight scenes, including the bloody one near the end of the film when Friendly, played convincingly by Lee J. Cobb, with help from his goons, one of them played by Galento. In the movie, the thugs left Malloy battered and bloodied, until he was revived by his girlfriend and the priest, (Eva Marie Saint and Karl Malden) and leads his fellow dock workers back to work.

"Billy was a hell of a good fighter, and a really nice guy," recalled former Brooklyn U.S. Marshal Mike Pizzi, a contemporary lawman who crossed paths many times with the ex-fighter who, after leaving the Clifton police department in 1962, began an 18-year-career as a deputy U.S. marshal in New Jersey.

"He was such a soft-spoken guy, but was he tough!" said Pizzi. "Anyone messing with him in real life was in for some surprise," Pizzi continued. "He's in the boxing hall of fame in New Jersey. Very soft spoken, but you could tell how rugged he was. If you look up his boxing record, he was undefeated in his first 24 fights."

Writer Schwartz and the U.S. Marshals website noted that Ramoth, who died at age 84 in 2011, was a multi-faceted guy who was much more than a boxer-stuntman-lawman.

"He was a unique person," said Pizzi. "He took me off my feet when he started talking poetry when I sat at a table with him at a party," Pizzi recalled. "He wrote this poem where he's watching this poor old lady who's sitting in the courtroom watching her son getting convicted at trial. And he recited it, from memory."

"Once I happened to be watching a B movie," Pizzi continued, "and this guy was supposed to throw the fight and he's not and I'm looking and I say, 'Holy shit,' that's Billy. What a unique guy."

As Billy Kilroy, Ramoth did fight scenes and worked as a technical adviser in 12 more films, including The Hustler, when he became friendly with Paul Newman while acting as his double, and told Schwartz about a memorable card game he saw on the set.

"In between takes," Ramoth told Schwartz, "Paul lost a card game and he made me go to the bank to get him $100 in pennies to pay off the debt to another man."

Newman also smoothed the way for police officer Ramoth, who had run out of vacation days, to finish his role in The Hustler. Newman personally called the Clifton city manager to get him a few more days off — likely unpaid — to enable him to complete his role as Newman's double in the movie.

His worry about days off ended a year later, when he became a deputy U.S. marshal, and was required to give up his stuntman career.

But he used his boxing experience "all of the time" during his 18 years as a G-man, according to the U.S. Marshal Service website story about Ramoth, entitled Boxer, Deputy, Poet. "It's a mental problem to establish rapport with the prisoners," he explained. "In a physical type of atmosphere, many of them identify with a boxer, a fighter."

"If his prisoners identified with him," the article stated, "it is just as fair to say that Ramoth related well to them. Many of his childhood acquaintances in East Rutherford, where he learned to box, got into trouble with the law. As Ramoth sees it," the article concluded, "There, but for the grace of God, go I."

It's not recorded whether Ramoth used poetry to relate to any of the prisoners he guarded. But there's little doubt that he broke the ice with many an inmate by relating an escapade or an anecdote he enjoyed while working as Billy Kilroy along with Marlon, Eva Marie, Karl Malden and Paul Newman in On The Waterfront and The Hustler.

Son Of Gambino Capo Changes His Mind About Working On The Waterfront — For Now

A son shouldn't have to pay for the sins of his father — even when his late dad was a mob capo. So Frank Giordano, his own crime-free record in hand, applied a year ago for a $165,000 a year job on the docks. The Waterfront Commission objected, and disqualified him for having misrepresented his ties to the Gambino family.

Giordano was all set to contest those claims, at a hearing next month. But that was before the Supreme Court indicated that the waterfront watchdog would soon be swimming with the fishes.

After the high court indicated on March 1 it is unlikely to rescue the 70-year-old agency that serves as a watchdog on mob influence on the piers, Giordano, 56, withdrew his application.

His move is an apparent effort to wait until after SCOTUS issues its expected ruling denying New York's lawsuit to block New Jersey from withdrawing from the bi-state agency before it recesses for the summer, which it usually does in late June or early July. In theory, that would end the Commission's case against him.

It's difficult to predict when the court will issue its ruling, or what the Court's ruling will say about the property that the Commission owns, or the records it maintains, or the timeframe it will set aside for the schism to take place.

But there's little doubt that the Commission would have been able to prove that Giordano, the son of the once powerful capo John (Handsome Jack) Giordano, had committed a large number of the 55 allegations of "fraud, deceit, or misrepresentation" he was charged with in the written application for a job as a checker he filed last March and the videotaped interview he had in October.

This analysis assumes that that the Commission would NOT prove a handful of allegations that Giordano's "associations" with his father "were inimical to the policies of the Waterfront Commission Act." Gang Land believes those are cheap shots that somehow blame him for being born 56 years ago when he had nothing to do with that.

The standard of proof requires the agency to establish only that each allegation is more likely than not to be true. It's likely that it would be able to prove that Giordano had “inimical” associations with Gambino mobsters Ernest Grillo, Carmen Martucci, and uncle Joseph (Joe The Blond) Giordano, as well as with Genovese associate John Laforte.

But in the unlikely event that it couldn't prevail on those allegations, the moribund agency had lodged a series of charges it would undoubtedly prove even if Giordano had a revived and invigorated Perry Mason on the case.

Many are based on hard to dispute evidence — like tape-recorded talks and prison records — acquired by crack ex-NYPD detectives and other seasoned mob investigators from both states who have made the Commission an invaluable ally of state and federal prosecutors in Brooklyn, Manhattan and Newark in recent years.

For instance, when asked if he knew anyone or associated with any individual convicted of a long list of mob-type crimes like gambling, loansharking and extortion, he answered, "yes," but "falsely" listed only his father, the Commission charged, when "in truth and fact," he'd associated with others, including mobster Martucci, associate Laforte, and uncle Joe The Blond Giordano.

Asked if he knew anyone or associated with anyone who was "known or reputed" to be a member of an organized crime group like the mafia" or accused of being one, Giordano "falsely responded, 'Never."

He also "falsely denied ever visiting anyone else in prison other than" his father, and "falsely testified" that he "did not know and never had any telephonic Communications" with wiseguys Grillo and Martucci, or with mob associate Laforte.

It remains to be seen whether Giordano will fare any better with the New Jersey state police, or whatever agency the Garden State creates to deal with the issue of violence and corruption on its docks, when the SCOTUS issues its ruling and he decides to resume his efforts to get himself a job on the waterfront.

[Dr031718]

[Southshore88]

Thanks for posting

[nizarsoccer]

Thank you.

[AntComello]

Thanks for Posting

[TSNYC]

Capeci has run a lot of these pro-Waterfront commission stories, which tells me the former director of the commission and probably a bunch of their investigators (mostly all retired nypd OC detectives) have fed him stories over the years. These pro commission articles make it seem like these guys are instrumental in bringing cases, but in fact are usually the 5th law enforcement agency down on a press release, but maybe ran some computer checks for FBI or NYPD. The organization has truly been without a mission for a long time.

[furiofromnaples]

Lol The Persicos are more numerous then the Freys in Westeros.

[Wiseguy]

I would assume Teddy and Carmine would be the same crew.

Capeci has run a lot of these pro-Waterfront commission stories, which tells me the former director of the commission and probably a bunch of their investigators (mostly all retired nypd OC detectives) have fed him stories over the years. These pro commission articles make it seem like these guys are instrumental in bringing cases, but in fact are usually the 5th law enforcement agency down on a press release, but maybe ran some computer checks for FBI or NYPD. The organization has truly been without a mission for a long time.

I don't know if I'd say that. In terms of prosecutions I agree but that's not really their thing, although they can be an assisting agency. They're basically there as a screening measure to keep mobsters and their families and friends off the waterfront as much as possible. As well as kick them out when possible. I'll leave the debate over how fair that is to others but, considering access to lucrative ILA jobs is the main source of money and influence left for the mob on the waterfront, I'd say it's not insignificant what the Commission does.

[Little_Al1991]

Thanks for posting.

[CornerBoy]

im not too interested in nor do i know much about the docks or the commissions that oversea them. maybe b/c i have a family member that is always blabbing about this shit. but i seem to recall thinking they were overzealous like firing a woman who unloaded a ship for sitting w an alleged lcn guy at a benefit.

[NYNighthawk]

Frank does not look as handsome as his dad jack!

[SonnyBlackstein]

The Columbo crime family is an actual crime, family.

Persicos will be at the reigns until it ends appears.

[NYNighthawk]

Is Michael the one that was accused by the feds of dating that Indian lawyer?

[Dr031718]

Is Michael the one that was accused by the feds of dating that Indian lawyer?

Yes that was Michael

[DonPeppino386]

Thanks for posting. Persicos coming out of the woodwork haha.