There were four Guvenaro brothers: Vinnie “Mook,” Louie “Bopp,” Frankie, and Arthur. It seemed, for all intents and purposes, that the murder of Arthur Guvenaro was a thing of the past, over and done with. That might very well have been the case had Arthur Guvenaro not had a brother named Louie Bopp. Louie was a tough, street-smart guy who was born and raised on Bath Avenue. As a youth, he had hung out with a group called the Bath Avenue Boys, all stand-up, two-fisted Italian-Americans. Louie Bopp was a naturally gifted athlete. Anything he tried in terms of athletics he did very well. He was a particularly adept street fighter. He had unusually large hands and was amazingly fast and knocked out most of his opponents before they even threw a punch. Coincidentally, sadly, Louie’s older brother, Vinnie “Mook” Guvenaro, was murdered by Gambino capo Nino Gaggi with the help of the notorious Roy DeMeo for whistling at Gaggi’s sister-in-law on Eighty-sixth Street as she came out of the Hytulip Jewish Deli.
Louie Bopp made his living on the outside of the law. Though he was not a made man, he was most definitely connected. He had been born and raised in the Mafia culture, was a part of it, was thought of well—a rough-and-ready guy who often had a smile on his face.
Arthur Guvenaro was Louie’s youngest brother. Louie had always watched over Arthur. He knew Arthur was troublesome, that he was using drugs excessively, and he warned his kid brother. But Arthur, like all the brothers, was strong-willed and stubborn, headstrong, tough, and he wouldn’t listen to his older—wiser—brother. Inevitably, inexorably, Arthur’s freebasing caused problems that resulted in his murder. When Louie Bopp heard about his brother’s killing, he was incensed, distraught, and wanted revenge. Revenge in that neighborhood was the norm, as much a part of it as the Eighty-sixth Street elevated train. The fact that Frank Gangi and Billy Bright only received a year after murdering Arthur compounded Louie Bopp’s anger and frustration many times over. When Louie Bopp learned that Gangi and Billy Bright were out of jail, he decided to kill them—to take a contract out on their lives. Gangi and Bright had been childhood friends, two rogues cut from the same cloth. Bright had been doing business with Pitera before he went to jail, and now that he was out of jail, their business relationship resumed.
It didn’t take long for Gangi and Billy Bright to hear about the contract Louie Bopp had taken out on their lives, and they ran to Tommy Pitera. Pitera was ideally suited to act as an intermediary on behalf of Gangi and Bright. He knew Mafia protocol exceedingly well. He knew its rules and regulations as well as the street on which he was born. Since both Frank Gangi and Billy Bright were working for him now, it was his responsibility to step up for them. Diplomatically, he suggested to Frank that he go to his cousin Ross Gangi, a highly respected Genovese captain, and that he, Pitera, would speak up for Billy Bright.
“This way,” Pitera said, “you’ll have two families speaking up for you. Your position will be much stronger.”
Pitera was, of course, absolutely right.
A sit-down is a classic way the Mafia developed to iron out problems. It was easy to have beef with anyone over a hundred different things, grab a gun, and put a bullet in someone’s head. Though a bullet to the head certainly ended arguments, finalized all debates, there was a better way to settle disputes, differences of opinions, the divvying up of various multifamily schemes without spilling blood. Unbeknownst to the police and, by extension, the public, the Mafia often had meetings to resolve disputes without rancor, yelling or cursing or pointing of fingers. Again, this was a custom that was brought over from Sicily but refined and perfected by the American La Cosa Nostra.
In a sense, sit-downs had become an art form. The modulation of voice had to be just so; the motions of hands had to be subdued; even the look from the eyes had to be neutral, not filled with fire, hatred. Because the Bonanno crime family was deeply involved in this problem, Anthony Spero, the underboss, a highly respected individual in the family, agreed to “host” the sit-down. He would be the final arbitrator. Whatever he decided would be law—indisputable. The meeting was held in a quiet restaurant in Bensonhurst. The attendees were Louie Bopp, Billy Bright, Frank Gangi, Gangi’s cousin Ross, Tommy Pitera, and Anthony Spero.
Louie Bopp was seething with anger. Regardless of how neutral he tried to appear, the anger boiled over and came from his eyes, his every movement, though he was respectful, shook hands and kissed. Louie first laid out his case, said that his brother had been murdered by Gangi and Bright, and he wanted revenge, was entitled to revenge. Conversely, Billy Bright told how Arthur had been stealing from them, that Arthur was an out-of-control drug addict, that he “brought it all on himself.”
Everyone there that day sitting at the table knew exactly what Arthur Guvenaro had been doing: he had been ripping off corner dealers. One day he was rich and driving fancy cars and the next day he was broke because of illogical, bad behavior.
Spero listened calmly to both sides and weighed the options. Gangi and Bright were both earners for the Bonanno family. As if that weren’t enough, Gangi had his cousin in his corner, while Bright had Pitera speaking for him. Spero ruled that the matter was to be forgotten, that no one was going to be killed.
“It’s over and done,” he said in little more than a whisper.
And it was over and done. Had Louie Bopp done anything more, tried to get his revenge, killed Gangi and Bright, he would have quickly and summarily been shot to death, no questions asked, no quarter given.