Alphonse “Sonny Red” Indelicato was a stocky man, with strong, tattooed arms and dark hair, despite his nickname. He favored large tinted glasses, perhaps taking a fashion cue from fellow Bonanno captain Cesare Bonventre. Any sartorial similarities to the cool and stylish Bonventre, however, ended there. Sonny Red preferred garish, casual clothes—orange T-shirts, bright red shorts, colorful baseball jackets, striped track suits, multicolored socks and faded blue jeans were all part of his wardrobe. He was particularly fond of a pair of brown leather cowboy boots, the looks of which probably made Bonventre cringe. If Bonventre dressed Euro-cool, Sonny Red was American-kitsch.
Despite his clothing, Sonny Red was a powerful force on the streets of New York. Born in New York on February 16, 1927, Sonny Red displayed an early interest in narcotics transactions and stark displays of violence. Charged with heroin possession in 1950, he was quickly convicted. Not long after his six-month stint in jail, he was an aggressor in a social club shooting, on Boxing Day, 1951, that left one man dead and another, a witness to the attack, wounded. The poorly planned hit led to convictions against Sonny Red for murder and attempted murder, followed by a 12-year stay in Sing Sing prison. He was hardly reformed by his incarceration. After his release, despite being on lifetime parole—likely the reason he was not celebrating with his cohorts at the Bono wedding—he was repeatedly named by informants as a major narcotics dealer, according to FBI documents.
In the 15 years since his release from prison in 1966, Sonny Red had built himself into a formidable presence within the Bonanno Family, not only because of his opinionated, charismatic swagger, but because at least four other Bonanno captains supported any move he made. With each captain controlling a half-dozen to a dozen other made men, the tight-knit group presented a significant force, one that seemed in a reasonable position to seize control. Many in Sonny Red’s group had proven their deadliness in the slaying of Galante; although they were not alone in its planning and perpetration, Sonny Red’s men took the lead. Along with his Bonanno allies, Sonny Red had solid connections to other New York crime families, including senior members of the Colombo Family and a father-in-law, Charles “Charlie Prunes” Ruvolo, who was a Lucchese Family soldier. As such, both the Zips and Joe Massino took the Sonny Red faction seriously. Sonny Red threatened both the leadership of Philip Rastelli, the family boss, and Massino’s grand ambitions.
For the Zips, motivation for opposing Sonny Red’s rebellion came from more materialistic concerns. Sonny Red was not only cocky toward Rastelli and disrespectful to Massino and Sonny Black, but he appears to have been dismissive of the power of the Zips, a mistake also made by Paolo Violi and Pietro Licata.
Sonny Red and his faction had been happily reaping the profits from distributing the Sixth Family’s heroin in New York. In late 1980 or early 1981, he is said to have taken $1.5 million worth of heroin on consignment from Gerlando Sciascia and Joe LoPresti and then declined to pay for it. This endears you to no one in the mob, where men have been murdered over debts a thousand times less. More important, if Sonny Red were to become the boss, he would inevitably cut in on the Sixth Family’s lucrative action, perhaps move for exclusive access and put a crimp in the Zips’ free-wheeling, wide-ranging heroin sales to any and all comers.
The other New York crime families were well aware of the growing strife. Between chuckles about the chaotic Bonanno Family, seemingly unable to keep its own house in order, each weighed where its interests lay in the struggle for control. Vincent “The Chin” Gigante, the boss of the Genovese Family, was backing Sonny Red and, accordingly, a Genovese soldier was directly agitating on Sonny Red’s behalf. John Gotti, then an aggressive captain in the Gambino Family, along with the Gambino underboss, Aniello Dellecroce, and several of his captains and soldiers, were staunch supporters of both Sciascia and Massino. Gotti and Massino had long been pals, since their wayward youth as chronic truck hijackers; the Gambinos were huge buyers of the Sixth Family’s heroin who met regularly with Sciascia and LoPresti to arrange lucrative deals. There was little doubt where the Gambinos’ support would go. Some Colombo Family members also gave Massino the nod, although some old-time Colombo members had ties to Sonny Red.
Support from within the Gambino and Colombo families was a good omen for Massino, who, on Rastelli’s behalf, next took the complaint to the top—the Commission. The Commission was the Mafia’s highest authority when navigating the crowded underworld of New York. It was led by Paul Castellano, the boss of the Gambino Family (until he was killed on orders from John Gotti in a 1985 coup d’état within his own family). Castellano listened as Massino made his case against Sonny Red. The Commission seems also to have gone to Sonny Red to hear his side. Later, Castellano passed the Commission’s ruling on to Massino. Not surprisingly, the conservative forces on the panel came out in support of retaining Rastelli as the Bonanno boss, but denied Massino the option of striking out against his opponents. The Bonannos, the Commission declared, needed to sort their problems out privately and peacefully.
“No bloodshed,” Castellano told Massino.
“The Commission ruled that there should be no gunplay; to work it out among yourselves,” said Sal Vitale, who was briefed by Massino on the ruling shortly afterward. In accordance with those orders, a series of meetings between the rival Bonanno factions was planned, ostensibly to find common ground among the contenders and bring a peaceful end to their standoff. For the first meeting, on February 4, 1981, all of the captains were called to Ferncliff Manor, a catering hall on West 11th Street near Avenue U. When Sonny Red was told to meet the other captains at Ferncliff, he asked his men to check it out beforehand.
“When they asked me, am I familiar with this place, I said ‘Yes. Only about six blocks from my bar,’” Frank Lino said. Sonny Red decided to gather his men together at Lino’s bar before the meeting. Sonny Red, Philly Lucky, Big Trinny and Bruno Indelicato showed up. Curiously, so did Sciascia, LoPresti and other unnamed mobsters from Canada. Together the men walked to the nearby hall, where they joined up with others from the Zip contingent: Salvatore Catalano, Cesare Bonventre and Baldo Amato.
“I walked him to it to let him know where the meeting was, George from Canada, people from Canada, I walked them to the place,” Lino said. The first meeting was a bust.
Sonny Red’s worries were heightened rather than eased by the truce talks, so much so that before the second gathering, called a month later, he braced for an all-out Bonanno war. The second meeting was scheduled at Brooklyn’s Embassy Terrace on Avenue U and East 2nd Street, again close to Lino’s bar.
“They thought there would be some kind of trouble and my bar was only two blocks away from the Embassy Terrace, so they came down and we loaded up. We had rifles and pistols,” Lino said. Despite the worries of Sonny Red, Lino was unconcerned because the second meeting coincided with a parade through the streets of Brooklyn.
“When they told me where the meeting was, I told them they’re having a big parade, going to be loaded with patrolmen for the parade. I doubt if anything would happen that day,” Lino recalled. The parade was in celebration of the American hostages who had been released after 444 days of imprisonment in the captured U.S. embassy in Iran. One of the former hostages, oddly, was a cousin of one of Sonny Red’s most vicious soldiers. The firearms were not needed for that meeting, but they did not go unnoticed.
“We were at J&S Cake when Tuttie Francese, a friend of Joe Massino, came in and told him that the other side were loadin’ up. They were buying automatic weapons, meaning the three other captains were getting ready for war,” Vitale said. Francese was a soldier in the Colombo Family.
Massino took this new information to Castellano as well as to Carmine Persico, the boss of the Colombo Family. Massino was a shrewd operator—he knew Persico sat on the Commission and would likely give credence to the information since it came from one of his own men. Massino begged the Commission to untie his hands and let him and his men “defend themselves.” Warfare, after all, was bad for business. Uncontrolled blood in the streets—as the gangsters had seen from past bursts of violence—brought unwanted attention from police, politicians and the press, and cut into all mobsters’ profits. Faced with the disquieting prospect of Sonny Red trying to seize control of the Bonanno Family in a drawn-out war, the Commission gave in to Massino.
“You have to defend yourself. Do what you have to do,” Castellano told him. In mob parlance, that was permission to kill. Massino pounced on the opportunity.
Massino and Sciascia had formed an alliance to purge the three rival captains, and they started making their plans. The challenge they faced was finding a way to kill all of the dissenters at once, so there would be no opportunity for a revenge strike. What they needed was a trap. A third “peace” meeting was called by Massino. Sonny Red had looked at things in pretty much the same way as Massino and Sciascia and was concerned that his opposition was drawing him into an ambush. With good reason. Unbeknownst to Sonny Red, the meeting was purposely called for a Tuesday evening—the night Joe Massino and his cronies habitually played cards and ate a long dinner together at J&S Cake, Massino’s private social club.
“Joe Massino felt that we can go there, kill them and come back to the club using that as an alibi,” Vitale said.
Through Sciascia, arrangements were made for Vito Rizzuto and two of his closest colleagues to come to New York to help take care of the nasty bits. Vito maintained a relative disinterest in the daily grind of New York’s wiseguys when it did not directly affect his business. This job seemed to qualify. He could appreciate the need to purge opposition forces, as the Sixth Family had recently done in Montreal. It might even have been seen as the necessary pay-back to New York for finally approving the Sixth Family’s hit on Paulo Violi.
Massino also met with Sonny Black, another influential Bonanno captain, who had been promoted after Galante’s murder. Sonny Black had his own interests to look out for, and during his discussions with Massino he sought to have an associate take part, thinking the new recruit would earn a chance to be inducted into the family.
“We should take him with us,” Sonny Black said to Massino, indicating Donnie Brasco. Massino dismissed the idea and, in one of many fortuitous and canny decisions he would make in his long mob career, dropped Brasco from the roster. When Massino returned to the car after his meeting, where Vitale, acting as his driver, was waiting for him, Massino said that Sonny Black was now part of the plan.
“Sonny Black is signed with us,” Massino told Vitale. “Sonny Black wants to ‘straighten out’ [induct] Donnie Brasco.” His words are an embarrassing acknowledgment of how deeply FBI agent Joe Pistone had fooled the mobsters. Massino also met with John Gotti, Aniello Dellacroce and Angelo Ruggiero, all of the Gambino Family, eliciting their assistance.
May 5, 1981, the night of the third meeting, was a busy one for all concerned. Joe Massino and Sal Vitale met at J&S Cake, just as they did every Tuesday. They were joined by Duane “Goldie” Leisenheimer and James “Big Louie” Tartaglione. Later in the evening, Sciascia and Santo “Tony” Giordano arrived. The two Zips chatted with Massino in the foyer.
Goldie was to be the lead driver that night, shuttling shooters and captains around to where they needed to be. He had also offered his apartment as a crash pad for anyone needing a place to sleep. Massino handpicked Goldie as his counter-surveillance man outside the club. Goldie had been serving Massino since he was a boy, following him around like a puppy dog. It had led more than one mobster to refer to him as “Joey’s Golden Retriever.” Although he had earned Massino’s trust, he could never join the family because of his Irish–German roots. Sciascia, who always preferred to place his faith in fellow Sicilians, was worried about including Goldie.
“Joe introduced Goldie to them,” Vitale said. “George made a face, Tony made a face. This kid has blond hair, blue eyes—he’s not Italian. Joe says he’s the best driver, good with mirrors, good with walkie-talkies, it was a go.” (Being “good with mirrors” meant he was able to track vehicles behind him as he drove, often detecting when his car was being followed by police.) Goldie was given a walkie-talkie to allow those outside the club to communicate with those inside. Goldie, Big Louie, Sonny Black and five other trusted members of Sonny Black’s crew—including Lefty Ruggiero and John “Boobie” Cerasani—waited at a discreet distance outside the club, watching for police or rival gangsters. They were also to watch for any of the three captains who might escape the trap that awaited them. Goldie was to drive those who were not slated for death away from the club afterward, and the others were ready to swoop in to clean up the anticipated mess.
Well before the scheduled meeting, Vitale drove Massino to the club. He dropped him off in front, drove two blocks farther, parked the car and walked back.
Vitale already knew he had been selected as one of the shooters. When he arrived at the club, Massino introduced him for the first time to the others, all imported from Montreal: allegedly Vito Rizzuto, Emanuele Ragusa and a man known simply as the old-timer. The old-timer had silver-gray hair and was an “elderly gentleman,” Vitale said. He later described him as being between the ages of 65 and 70. It was likely one of Nick Rizzuto’s mob contemporaries sent to oversee Vito’s demeanor under fire. The family had several members who were proficient with a shotgun, such as Domenico Manno, Vito’s uncle, who had been convicted in the Paolo Violi hit a few years earlier—although, then 47 years old, Manno was likely too young to be considered a senior citizen by Vitale, who was 33 at the time.
After the introductions, the men armed themselves with guns already inside the club. They were also given ski masks so the other captains “wouldn’t know who the shooters were,” Vitale said.
“I had a Tommy gun,” he said. “They call it a grease gun, an automatic weapon. Fires multiple rounds.” Vitale did not remember much about the weapons that had been under his care when he was his company’s armorer in the U.S. Army. He examined the gun from the barrel to the stock, fingering its parts. He pushed the safety lock to the off position in the process.
“When I pulled the chamber back it discharged and shot five times into the wall.” The rounds narrowly missed a startled Giovanni Ligammari.
“I was shocked. Everyone was shocked,” Vitale said. “I got everybody’s attention.” Massino did not want Vitale to fire his gun during the ambush unless he absolutely needed to. In such a small space, anyone could be hurt during a frantic shootout.
Vito and Emanuele were designated as the lead shooters, according to Vitale. Vitale and the old-timer were told to guard the exit door.
“No one was supposed to get by me and the old-timer,” Vitale said. “We were told by Joe and George that if Sonny Red did not show up, they were going to call it off. Prior to them arriving, George Sciascia said, ‘If Sonny Red is there, I will put my hand through my hair on the side of my head, that means it’s a go.’”
Massino told them to announce that it was a holdup and to try to get everyone to stand up against the wall. He had hoped the captains could be killed in an orderly, execution-style manner to avoid a messy free-for-all gun battle. They were now ready for the arrival of their prey.
“When we entered the closet,” Vitale said, “we left the door open a smidge to look out. We were in the closet, we all had our weapons loaded. We sat there and waited.”