DOMINICK “PAPA” ANGELO, NINETY-FOUR, don of the Angelo family, was a legal resident of 67825 Flint Road, Deal, New Jersey. Born Mario Dominick Nicola Angelo in Mareno, Sicily, 1874. His family was a “left-side” branch of the Angelo family, and for five generations had been tenant farmers in Sicily. There is no record of Dominick’s early schooling.
During a New York State investigation in 1934 (see Records of the Murphy Committee, Vol. I, pp. 432-35) evidence was presented that Dominick Angelo entered the United States illegally in 1891 by swimming ashore from a merchant ship on which he was working as cook. In any event, records are confused—or missing—and Dominick Angelo filed for his first citizenship papers in 1896, and became a U.S. citizen in 1903. At that time he listed his occupation as “waiter.”
His criminal record includes an arrest for disturbing the peace in 1904 (no disposition) and assault with intent to kill in 1905 (charge withdrawn). In 1907 he was arrested on a charge of assault with a deadly weapon (knife) with the intent to commit grievous bodily harm (he castrated his victim). He was tried, convicted, and served two years, seven months, and fourteen days at Dannemora (#46783).
Upon his release from prison, there is inconclusive evidence that he became a “button” for the Black Hand, as the Italian criminal organization in this country was then called.
(In their treatise Origins of American Slang, Hawley and Butanski, Effrim Publishers Co., Inc., 1958, the authors state [pp. 38-39] that in the period 1890-1910, the term “button” was used to describe a gangland executioner, and may have come from a description of a man who could “button the lip” of an informer or enemy. The authors point out that later, in the 1920’s and 1930’s, the terms “buttons” or “Mr. Buttons” came into use in criminal circles to describe a uniformed policeman.)
In 1910, Dominick Angelo obtained employment with the Alsotto Sand & Gravel Co., of Brooklyn, New York, ostensibly as a loader. In 1917 he volunteered for service with the American Expeditionary Forces, but because of his age, his services were limited to guard duty on the docks at Bayonne, New Jersey.
In 1920 he secured employment as foreman with the Giovanni Shipping Enterprises, Inc. During this period he married Maria Florence Gabriele Angelo, a distant relative. Their first child, a boy, was born in 1923. He was subsequently killed in action on Guadalcanal Island in 1942.
During World War II, Dominick Angelo volunteered his services to the U.S. government and, according to documents on file, his assistance was “invaluable” in preparing for the invasions of Sicily and Italy. There is in existence a letter from a high official of the OSS attesting to his “magnificent and unique cooperation.”
During the period 1948-68, official records reveal his rise to a position of great prominence and power in the Italian-dominated structure controlling organized crime in the United States. From soldier to capo to don took him less than ten years, and by 1957 he was recognized as leader of one of the several national “families.” His personal fortune was variously estimated as $20,000,000 to $45,000,000.
Students and observers of organized crime in the United States—of what has been described as the Black Hand, the Syndicate, the Mafia, the Cosa Nostra, the Family, etc.—generally agree that Dominick Angelo was the guiding spirit, brain, and power behind the conversion of the violent system to a semilegitimate cartel that increasingly avoided the strong-arm methods of previous years and invested more funds in loan companies, real estate, entertainment enterprises, brokerage houses, garbage collection, banks, linen supply companies, restaurants, laundromats, insurance companies, and advertising agencies.
In 1968,* Dominick Angelo was ninety-four; 124 pounds; 5 feet 6 inches tall; almost totally bald; almost completely bedridden from diabetes, arthritis, and the effects of two severe coronary occlusions. Very dark eyes; extraordinarily long fingers; a habit of stroking his upper lip with one finger (he wore a long mustache until 1946).
His home in Deal, New Jersey, was large, comfortable, and situated in the center of a generous acreage, without being ostentatious. The estate was surrounded by a 12-foot brick wall topped with cement into which pieces of broken glass had been studded. It is believed the staff consisted of several people—housekeeper, two or three groundsmen, a personal valet, butler, a male medical attendant, a female nurse, three maids, and two chauffeurs.
On 16 May, 1966, an explosion occurred at the locked gate leading to the Angelo estate. Officers investigating the incident reported it had been caused by several sticks of dynamite wired to a crude time fuse—a cheap alarm clock. No injuries were reported, and no arrests were made. The investigation is continuing.
Of peripheral interest are two unsubstantiated reports on Dominick Angelo: After his wife’s death in 1952, he engaged in homosexual liaisons, preferring the company of very young boys; and he was the inventor of the split-level coffin, although this “credit” has since been given to others. The split-level coffin is a device to get rid of victims of gangland slayings. The coffins are built somewhat deeper than usual, and the victim is buried in a section beneath the legitimate corpse. This scheme, of course, depends upon the cooperation of funeral parlors, in which the family has a substantial financial interest.
The following transcription is from a tape recording made by agents of the New Jersey Special Legislative Subcommittee to investigate Organized Crime. The transcription is labeled NJSLC-DA-#206-IC, and is dated 10 July, 1968. The time was approximately 11:45 P.M., and the recording was made at Dominick Angelo’s home at 67825 Flint Road, Deal, New Jersey. The transmitting device was a Socklet MT-Model K.
From internal evidence, the two persons present were Dominick “Papa” Angelo and Patrick “Little Pat” Angelo. Although the tape recording from which this transcription was made ran for slightly less than three hours, portions have been deleted that repeat evidence already presented. In addition, law enforcement agencies of New Jersey, New York, and Las Vegas, Nevada, have requested that certain portions be withheld, since they concern possible criminal prosecutions presently under investigation. All such deletions have been indicated by “lapse of time” notations.
[Lapse of thirty-two minutes during which Patrick Angelo inquired as to his grandfather’s health and was informed that it was “as well as could be expected.” Patrick Angelo then reported on the meeting with John Anderson and Anthony D’Medico.]
PATRICK: Well, Papa, what do you think?
PAPA: What do you think?
PATRICK: I say no. Too many people involved. Too complex, considering the possible profit.
PAPA: But I see your eyes shining. I see you are interested. You say to yourself, this is action! You are excited. You say to yourself, I am getting old and fat. I need action. This is how it was in Korea. I will plan this like a military raid. To me you say no—but in yourself you want this thing.
PATRICK [laughing]: Papa, you’re wonderful! You’ve got it all exactly right. My brain tells me this is nothing. But my blood wants it. I am sorry.
PAPA: Why be sorry? You think it is a good thing to be all brain and no blood? It is as bad as being all blood and no brain. The right mixture—that is what is important. This man Anderson—what is your feeling on him?
PATRICK: A hardnose. He has never carried a piece, but he is hard. And proud. From Kentucky. A mountain man. Everything the Doctor told me about him was good.
PAPA: Anderson? From the South? About ten years ago Gino Belli—he is the Doctor’s cousin—had a thing planned. It seemed good but it went sour. He had a driver named Anderson. Is that the man?
PATRICK: The same one. What a memory you’ve got, Papa!
PAPA: The body grows old; the mind remains young, praise to God. This Anderson brought Gino to a doctor. I remember it all now. I met him, very briefly. Tall and thin. A long, sunken face. Proud. Yes, you are right—a very proud man. I remember.
PATRICK: So what do you want to do, Papa?
PAPA: Be quiet and let me think.
[Lapse of two minutes thirteen seconds.]
PAPA: This Anderson—you say he has his own staff?
PATRICK: Yes. Five men. One’s a smoke. One’s a tech. Two are drivers, one of them a dumdum.
[Lapse of nine seconds.]
PAPA: That is four. And the other? The fifth man?
[Lapse of sixteen seconds.]
PAPA: Well? The fifth man?
PATRICK: He’s fancy. Knows about paintings, rugs, art collections—things like that.
PAPA: I see. Is his name Bailey?
PATRICK: I don’t know what his name is, Papa. I can find out.
PAPA: There was a fancy boy named Bailey out in Vegas. We did a. …
[Lapse of four minutes thirty-two seconds.]
PAPA: But that is not important. Besides, I suspect it is not Bailey. I suspect Bailey is dead. And who does the Doctor recommend as our representative?
PATRICK: A man named Sam Heming. One of Paul Washington’s boys.
PAPA: Another dinge?
PATRICK: Yes.
PAPA: No. That won’t do.
PATRICK: Papa? You mean you approve of this campaign?
PAPA: Yes. I approve. Go ahead with it.
PATRICK: But why? The money is. …
PAPA: I know. The money is nothing. There are too many people involved. It will end in disaster.
PATRICK: So … ?
[Lapse of seventeen seconds.]
PAPA: Little Pat is thinking why should Papa okay something like this? All these years we work hard to get legit. We deal with Wall Street bankers, Madison Avenue advertising agencies, political parties. We are in all good businesses. The profits are good. Everything is clean. We keep trouble down. And now here is Papa, ninety-four years old, and maybe his mind is getting feeble, too—here is Papa saying all right to this silly plan, this meshugeneh raid, where people will be hurt and probably killed. Maybe Papa is no longer to be trusted. Is that what Patrick thinks?
PATRICK: I swear to God, Papa, I never. If you say it’s okay, it’s okay.
PAPA: Little Pat, you will be don soon enough. Soon enough. A year. Two at the most.
PATRICK: Papa, Papa … you’ll outlive us all.
PAPA: Two years at the most. Probably one. But if you are to be don you must learn to think … think. Not only must you think should we do this thing, can we profit from this thing, but also, what are the consequences of this thing? What will result from this thing a year, five years, ten years from now? Most men—even big executives in the best American companies—gather all the facts and make a decision. But they fail to consider the consequences of their decision. The long-term consequences. Do you understand me?
PATRICK: I think so, Papa.
PAPA: Suppose there is a man we must put down. We consider what he has done and what a danger he represents to us. On the basis of these facts, we say he must be put down. But we must also consider the consequences of his death. Does he have relatives who will be embittered? Will the blues get upset? What will the papers say? Is there a young, smart, ambitious politician who will take this man’s death and get elected on it? You understand? It is not enough to consider the immediate facts. You must also project your mind and consider the future. In the long run, will it help us or hurt us?
PATRICK: Now I understand, Papa. But what has that to do with Anderson’s hustle?
PAPA: Remember about four years ago in Buffalo, we. …
[Lapse of four minutes nine seconds.]
PAPA: So what did that teach us? The advantage of fear. We first create and then maintain an atmosphere of fear. Why do you think we have been so successful in our legitimate dealings? In real estate and garbage collection and banks and linen service? Because our rates are lower? Ah, you know our rates are higher. Higher! But they fear us. And because of their fear, we do good business. The steel fist in the velvet glove. But if this is to continue, if our legitimate enterprises are to flourish, we must maintain our reputation. We must let businessmen know who we are, of what we are capable. Not frequently, but occasionally, choosing incidents that we know will not be lost on them, we must let the public know that beneath that soft velvet glove is bright, shining steel. Only then will they fear us, and our legitimate enterprises will continue to grow.
PATRICK: And you want to use Anderson’s campaign as an example? You feel it will end in failure, but you want the newspapers to play it up as ours? You want people hurt and people killed? You want businessmen who read about it in the papers to shiver, and then call us and say yes, they’ll take another million yards of our rayons or use our trucking firms or our insurance business?
PAPA: Yes. That is exactly what I want.
PATRICK: Is that why you okayed Al Petty’s job two years ago when. …
[Lapse of forty-seven seconds.]
PAPA: Of course. I knew he could never succeed. But it made headlines all over the country, and the men arrested were linked to us. Three people, one a child, were killed on that job, and our collections took a five point two percent jump in the following six months. Fear. Let others—the English and the Americans—use persuasion and business pressure. We use fear. Because we know it always works.
PATRICK: But Anderson, he’s not. …
PAPA: I know he is not linked closely with us. So we must put a man in who is. Toast came to visit me yesterday.
PATRICK: Toast? I didn’t know he was in town. Why didn’t he call me?
PAPA: He asked me to apologize to you. He was between flights. He just had time for a quick trip out here by car, and then on to Palm Beach.
PATRICK: How old was she this time?
PAPA: About fifteen. A real beauty. Long blond hair. And blind.
PATRICK: Blind? That’s good—for her sake.
PAPA: Yes. But Toast has a problem. Perhaps we can solve it for him with this Anderson thing.
PATRICK: What is the problem?
PAPA: Toast has a man—Vincent Parelli. You know him? They call him Socks.
PATRICK: That idiot? I’ve read about him.
PAPA: Yes. Parelli has gone crazy. He fights people. He runs them down in his car. He shoots them. He just doesn’t care. He is a very great embarrassment to Toast.
PATRICK: I can imagine.
PAPA: Parelli is very closely linked with us, very closely. Toast wants to get him out. You understand?
PATRICK: Yes.
PAPA: But Parelli is not that easy. He has some muscle of his own. They are all crazy … crazy. Al Capones. Throwbacks. They cannot think. Toast asked if there is anything I can do.
PATRICK: So … ?
PAPA: I owe a favor to Toast. You remember last year he got Paolo’s nephew into the university after the boy had been turned down all over? So here is what we do. … I will tell Toast to send Parelli in from Detroit to be our man on the Anderson campaign. Toast will tell Parelli that we have definite evidence of at least a million dollars’ worth of jewelry in the house. Otherwise Parelli would laugh at us. Toast will tell him we want a good, trustworthy man of our own on the scene to make sure there is no chance of a cross. This Parelli is gun-happy. He will probably blast. At the same time, you tell Anderson that we approve his plan providing he carries a piece and, at the end of the action, he puts Parelli down. That is our price for financing his hustle.
[Lapse of eleven seconds.]
PATRICK: Papa, I don’t think Anderson will go for it.
PAPA: I think he will. I know these amateurs. Always the big chance, the big hit, and then retirement to South America or the French Riviera for the rest of their lives. They think crime is one big lottery. They don’t know what hard work it is … hard, grinding work, year after year. No big hits, no big chances. But a job—just like any other. Maybe the profits are larger, but so are the risks. Anderson will stall a while, but then he will go for it. He will put Parelli down. Anderson has the blood and the pride to keep a bargain. I believe the whole thing will be a madness, with innocent people hurt and killed, and Vincent Parelli, who is so closely linked with us, found dead at the scene of the crime.
PATRICK: And you think that will help us, Papa?
PAPA: It will be in headlines all over the country and, eventually, it will help us.
PATRICK: What if the campaign comes off?
PAPA: So much the better. Parelli will no longer be a nuisance to Toast, we will get credit for the grab, and we will also profit. And maybe Anderson will end up in Mexico after all. Patrick, phone me every day and tell me how this is coming. I am very interested. Explain to the Doctor only as much as he needs to know. You understand?
PATRICK: Yes, Papa.
PAPA: I will take care of Toast, and Toast will make certain that Parelli is here when needed. Do you have any questions?
PATRICK: No, Papa. I know what must be done.
PAPA: You are a good boy, Patrick … a good boy.
*Dominick Angelo died on February 19, 1969.