Two Of The Best Crime Short Stories Ever Written: My Washington Times On Crime Column On A Fine Collection of Hemingway’s Novels. Short Stories and Letters

I began writing commentary and book reviews for the Washington Times in 2012, and from 2019 until recently, my On Crime column appeared in the Washington Times. 

I'm proud to have been a contributor to the fine newspaper.  

One of my final Washington Times On Crime columns covered the late, great American writer Ernest Hemingway.

You can read the column via the link below or the text below:

 

A fine collection of Hemingway's novels, short stories and letters - Washington Times

 

I’ve been an Ernest Hemingway aficionado since my teens, so I was pleased to read the Library of America’s collection of the late, great writer’s stories, “Hemingway: A Farewell To Arms & Other Writings 1927-1932.”

 

The Library of America, a nonprofit organization, champions our nation’s cultural heritage by publishing America’s greatest writing in new editions. “No twentieth-century writer had a greater influence on American fiction than Ernest Hemingway,” The Library of America writes. “This volume, the second in Library of America’s definitive edition of Hemingway’s works, brings together Men Without Women, A Farewell to Arms, and Death in the Afternoon, the three books that followed his groundbreaking debut novel, ’The Sun Also Rises,’ and solidified his status as a preeminent literary modernist.

 

“The appearance of “Men Without Women” (1927) confirmed Hemingway’s determination to leave his mark on the short story form. It comprises fourteen spare and unsparing stories about wounded soldiers, boxers, and bullfighters, each displaying the extraordinary economy of language that is the hallmark of his prose.”

 

While Hemingway is mostly known for writing about war, bullfighting, hunting and fishing, he also wrote what I believe are two of the best crime short stories ever written, “The Killers” and “Fifty Grand.” Both short stories, which are about boxers and crooks, are included in this collection.

 

The killers in “The Killers” are mob hit men who show up at a diner late one night where Hemingway’s autobiographical character, young Nick Adams, is working. He overhears the two hoodlums discussing their plans to murder the boxer.

 

Some years ago, I read “Ellery Queen’s Book of Mystery Stories.” The crime stories in this collection were written by writers who were not generally recognized as crime, mystery, or thriller writers.

 

Edited by Ellery Queen, the pseudonym of the writing team of Frederic Dannay and James Yaffe, and the name of their fictional detective character, the book offered crime stories by Mark Twain, Charles Dickens, Robert Louis Stevenson and a dozen other writers. Ernest Hemingway’s “The Killers” is also included in the collection.

 

“Ernest Hemingway’s “The Killers” is one of the best-known short stories ever written, and no volume dedicated to the literature of crime would be complete without it,” the editors wrote in the introduction to the story. “It is revealing nothing new about Hemingway to point out that essentially, he is preoccupied with doom - more specifically, with death. It has been explained this way: ‘The I in Hemingway’s stories is the man that things are done to’ - and the final thing that is done to him, as to all of us, is death. No story of Hemingway illustrates this fundamental thesis more clearly than ’The Killers,’ nor does any story of Hemingway illustrate more clearly why he is a legend in his own lifetime. Here, in a few pages, is the justly famous Hemingway dialogue - terse, clipped, the quintessence of realistic speech; here in a few pages, are more than the foreshadowing of the great literary qualities to be found in ’A Farewell to Arms” and “For Whom the Bell Tolls.’”

 

In “Fifty Grand,” Hemingway’s story is about Jack Brennan, an over-the-hill fighter. Jack Brennan is visited at his training camp by two flashy men described as “wise guy” pool hall owners. The men, Steinfelt and Morgan, called “big operators,” want the boxer to throw the fight as they have big money on his opponent. Jack Brennan, who thinks he will lose the fight anyway, bets 50 grand on his opponent to win. 


 

Hemingway, a noted amateur boxer, was a huge boxing fan. He knew the sport and the parasitic crooks who clung to the fighters like remoras to sharks.

 

A good companion to the Library of America’s Hemingway book is the Cambridge University Press’s “The Letters of Ernest Hemingway 1934-1936.”

 

In her introduction to the volume, Dr. Verna Kale, associate editor of the Hemingway Letters Project, wrote, “The Letters of Ernest Hemingway: Volume 6 (1934–1936) is a book about fish. It is about other things as well, of course: writing and art, friendship and fatherhood, the ongoing Great Depression and the rising threat of fascism in Europe. And fish — so many fish.”

 

The Hemingway letters cover the publication of Hemingway’s experimental nonfiction book “Green Hills of Africa” and his work on short stories, his twenty-plus pieces in Esquire magazine and his view of other writers.

 

Paul Davis’ On Crime column covers true crime, crime fiction and thrillers.

 

Hemingway: A Farewell To Arms & Other writings. 1927-1932
Edited by Robert W. Trogdon
Library of America, $32, 1037 pages

 

The Letters of Ernest Hemingway 1934-1936
Edited by Sandra Spanier, Verna Kale and Miriam B. Mandal
Cambridge University Press, $45, 700 pages

My Crime Beat Column: My Q&A With The Late Ralph Natale, The Former Boss Of The Philadelphia Cosa Nostra Organized Crime Family

Back in 2017, I reviewed Last Don Standing: The Secret Life of Mob Boss Ralph Natale and interviewed Ralph Natale for the Washington Times. 

I expanded my interview with Ralph Natale in my online Crime Beat column.

You can read the column below:

On March 27^th my review of Last Don Standing: The Secret Life of Mob Boss Ralph Natale appeared in the Washington Times. 

The book was written by Dan Pearson, the executive producer of the Discovery Channel’s I Married a Mobster, and Larry McShane, a crime reporter and author of The Chin: The Life and Crimes of Mafia Boss Vincent Gigante. The book covers the life of Ralph Natale, the boss of the Philadelphia-South Jersey Cosa Nostra organized crime family in the 1990s, and the first mob boss to become a government witness.               

As I wrote in the review, I grew up in South Philly, not far from where Natale was raised a generation earlier. I contacted him and we talked about his life and the book. I noted that he didn’t appear to be particularly remorseful or repentant in the book. I asked him if had any regrets about his past criminal life? 

“I have regrets about one thing, I broke my marriage vows,” Natale replied. “That’s the only thing I regret in my life. When I was 12 years old, I was a hoodlum. I was a born killer, that’s what I did and why I rose to the top so easily. But I never touched an innocent man or a woman or a child. I just clipped the guys who were supposed to get clipped. And they went. It was a simple thing for me.” 

Below is my interview with Ralph Natale: 

Davis: Why did you write the book? 

Natale: It was very simple. When I “went away,” the second time, I did 13 years. I told my friends to make sure every month that my wife has enough until I come home. Oh, yeah, yeah, they said. When I asked her every month, she said no, I said OK, maybe something happened. Then I said, OK, how about these punks? 

Davis: That made you bitter? 

Natale: When I first came home from the first bit - I did 16 on that because I didn’t want to be a witness - they were living in their mother’s homes and they were driving other people’s cars. Forty-five months later when they arrested me for a parole violation, they were now driving Mercedes, BMW’s and they bought their own homes. Forty-five months! Before that they didn’t know how to get out of their own way. This is all a matter of fact. Everybody in South Philly knows and everybody in the mob knows. And now when I go away and this thing happens, I said I want to see those punks. I got indicted for helping my son-in-law and his drug business, I leant him some money, and this and whatever. He got arrested with everybody else and my name came up. So I got indicted on this. Now this was the third time around. I was facing life. I would have gladly done it, gladly, because I did 16 when I really was in trouble. But they didn’t come up with a dime. And that’s why I wrote every word, and every part of it. You have to believe it because they never denied it. They couldn’t deny anything. 

Davis: Did you have any difficulty testifying against your former criminal associates in court? 

Natale: I saw them in the courtroom when I think did eleven or twelve days on the stand. In fact even the marshal said, we never seen nothing like it, you ripped the lawyers up. We never saw a man answer like you. I was telling the truth. It’s easy to tell the truth. The FBI agents when they arrested me in Florida, they said we’ll get you on the big one, I said you guys are crazy. It all came out later in the trial when I was a witness. That’s the reasons why I did this. Throughout the mob, every mob leader at that time could not believe it, but then they said we know why Ralphy did it, because these bastards kept everything for themselves and didn’t give me a dime. 

Davis: Can you briefly describe what it was like to be the boss of the Philadelphia-South Jersey Cosa Nostra family? 

Natale: Well, first of all, I always loved the guy who ran it, Angelo Bruno. When I went to work under “Skinny Razor,” John DiTullio, I saw what it was like to be admired and respected by “men,” and to tell men what to do and they would do it. I loved the ways, the world, everything was in place. I like things in order. I don’t like any disorder. When it gets disordered you see what happens in the world, in politics, in everything. It was like being dead and then all at once I became alive when I became a boss. I loved every moment of it. There is nothing like it in this world. I once saw a movie, a great sports movie, The Hoosiers. Did you see it?       

Davis: Yes, good film, with Gene Hackman. 

Natale: OK. When the woman in the movie was talking about her brother she said around here if a guy plays basketball, he’s treated like a God. Hackman said, listen, he told her, anybody, if he’s treated like a God for 15 seconds, then that’s well worth anything in the world. That’s true.     

Davis: That’s the way you felt when you were the boss? 

Natale: Yeah, that’s the way I felt. To be a part of La Cosa Nostra, when things meant something, you had to at least make a kill on your own. In my time, I committed, I think I pled to eight of them when I had to plea. I love my peace, I love my family, I love whatever I do, but if it comes time, I’m still mobster Natale. That’s all I know. The reason I speak so plainly is because I want you to understand what men like me are like. We don’t look any different. I don’t act like a mobster, I never did.          

Davis: I’m half-Italian, I grew up and live in South Philly and I’ve covered organized crime for a good number of years. I know the Cosa Nostra culture. 

Natale: The culture is this, if you can’t do it and then go home to sleep, then you shouldn’t do anything. I was brought up at 6^th and Wharton in South Philly. I was born and raised in that area. My mother family comes from there. My father’s family died early in their lives when they came from the other side. They got caught up in that flu epidemic. I was still see the same stores, the same houses and the same people. And I love every one of them with my heart. 

Davis: How were things different from when you were the boss and, say, from when Angelo Bruno was the boss in the 1960’s and 1970’s?    

Natale: Well, when Ang was the boss, money was around. Gambling, and this and that, but when I became boss, we had to go out and make our money. There was a lot of punks around. It was tough. Two weeks after I came home I called one big meeting. I said I want everybody to go get these guys taking all the action and tell them to meet us. When we were through with this meeting at a banquet hall we all became partners with the guys that were there. That’s what I did. We started to make money. 

Davis: Did you meet any resistance from other ethnic gangs, like the Russians or biker gangs? 

Natale: Everybody else knew that I was home and they knew what kind of man I was on the street before and when I was in prison. Once I called them in and had something to say, they all knew I kept my word. And they had to keep their word. I wasn’t Superman. You could put two in my head. But so far, I’m OK. I’m here. 

Davis: How different is today’s mob, as I guess you’re watching it from afar, and from your day and era? 

Natale: They don’t keep the rules. The watch too many movies. They watch The Godfather, they watch Casino. I was with those people, I knew those people. It was a joke. And these guys want to walk and talk like that. It was not like it was when we were young. We had men on the street. The few men that are left are the men that did time with Scarfo. They all did their time like men and they all came home like men. I didn’t know them because I was much older than them and I was away, but I admired men who did their time and came home. They are the only men who are left in South Philadelphia. 

Davis: Scarfo recently died in prison. What did you think of him and how he ran the crime family? 

Natale: He destroyed it. Nicky Scarfo was a man who had a hole inside him. He had no soul, no heart. You know, he didn’t have one true friend? Not one. I knew him very well. Many years ago when we were working in Atlantic City I wanted to kill Nicky Scarfo. It came out. I asked Angelo Bruno. No, Ang said, his uncles are my friends, and he’s this, he’s that. I said he’s going to give us trouble. But Ang said, with half a smile, don’t do this. It can’t be done. He put all those guys, all men, in prison. 

Davis: There is some question of who is the South Philly and South Jersey boss today. Do you know who it is? 

Natale: There is no boss! There is no more mob there. They are not recognized anywhere in the country because of what they did and who they were. They don’t even know how to walk on Passyunk Avenue. The men who came home can and I wish them all well. It’s not like before. 

Davis: Can you describe your homecoming when you became the boss? 

Natale: When I came home the first thing I did was walk from Jefferson Hospital, where I arranged to have a hernia operation later, to South Philly. I wanted to see South Philly again. When I went down Ninth Street at the Italian Market, all the guys working behind the stands came and we hugged and kissed. They already had the word because the news media had me as the new boss. It was so warming for me. And then we stopped at the Villa de Roma and we had a little drink – it was in the afternoon – and then we went home. That’s what South Philly was to me. I lived my life pretty good in South Philadelphia. Walk up and down every street and find out how I treated my friends and other people that I barely knew, and then you’ll know what kind of man I was. Then you’ll understand me. 

Davis: How difficult was it to become a government witness after a lifetime in Cosa Nostra? 

Natale: It wasn’t difficult for me. I’m not going to cry like other people. I wanted to get those punks. When my wife and family had nothing and I gave those punks everything? It was so easy. Done and done. 

Davis: If you look back in crime history, Cosa Nostra took pains to support the families of guys who went away to prison. This was key, along with a threat of death, that there is no record of any Cosa Nostra member becoming a government witnesses prior to Joe Valachi, and not many afterwards until much later, when greed, along with the RICO statute, changed all of that. 

Natale: It was like that. When I was away at Lewisburg I got subpoenaed to appear before a Senate Investigation Committee On Organized Crime. This was in 1982 and I had the first three years of a 23-year sentence. When they took me there they told me if you give us the right answers you’ll have your sentence reduced and you’ll be home within three months from today. I said you got the wrong guy. There were just three guys there. There was Nicky Scarfo, who had just become the boss, and the old man from Chicago, Anthony "Joe Batters,” Accardo. and me. I was the only one in prison and I was in jeopardy of getting another sentence for perjury, for this, for that. I did what I had to do. It was on C-Span and I still got the clip. I didn’t say a word about anybody. I could have put in prison half of New York, half of Chicago and all of Philadelphia. And you know who went to jail? Me. And that’s the truth. That I’m proud of. 

Davis: What do you think of Ron Previte, the man who wore an FBI wire, recorded you and testified against you? 

Natale: Anybody who testifies against me was what he was. I have no ill feeling about anything or anybody. I look at him, and say, well, you know, he did what had he had to do to save his ass. That’s what kind of name he’s got and that’s it. I ain’t got time for hate. I intend to live to be a hundred, but if I die tomorrow, I don’t have any hate in my body for anybody that did anything against me. 

Davis: Are you concerned about your personal safety? Is there an open contract on you? 

Natale: Who’s going to come after me (laughs)? I’m still a man. I was always known as a dangerous, dangerous man. That’s all I can tell you. 

Davis: There is that interesting story of “Harry the Hunchback” Riccobene, an elderly man, who took a couple of bullets but still managed to take the gun away from the hit man who was a young guy. Did you know him? 

Natale: Let me tell you a story about Harry Riccobene. You’re the first guy I’m going to tell it to, a South Philly guy. When I was home and I was the boss, I was down at 8^th and Tasker, at Frankie’s bar and I had to see him about something. I ran into a couple of my old school chums from Bartlett Junior High and one of them came over and said can I speak to you? Yeah, what is it? He said he gets a call every week from a man who praises you and loves you. He said if I ever ran into you I should arrange for you to come to my home and talk on the phone to him. What’s his name, I asked? Harry Riccobene. Little Harry? I love him. You make the arrangements and we’ll get it done. I did go over the week after. That was a real man. You know what he told me? He was glad I got it. He said I deserved it more than anybody. I said thanks Harry. He said he was fine - he had a ton of money. You remember I love you, ever since I was a boy, I said, and he said he loved me too. He died at 93-years-old, I think. 

Davis: He was a tough old guy. 

Natale: Harry Riccobene was a notorious killer. He used to drive Skinny Razor around and they were the men that I knew and they watched me grow up. I loved and respected them with all my heart. 

Davis: You write about Teamster boss Jimmy Hoffa in you book. Are you aware that Martin Scorsese is making a film about Frank Sheeran, the former Teamster and hit man who claimed to have murdered Hoffa as well as “Crazy Joe” Gallo in New York? 

Natale: Let me tell you about Frank Sheeran. He’s nothing but a drunk and he imagines things. He begged for me to see him when I was home and I did. I went over to South Philly and I met him there. He was half-drunk and that was it. He said he killed Jimmy Hoffa. I know who killed Hoffa. I have a picture in the book with me and a few of the guys from Lewisburg and one of the guys in the photos was one of the three guys who killed Hoffa. His name was Tommy Andretta. His brother was with him and there was the other guy they killed in New York, Salvatore Briguglio. This was a hit squad from “Tony Pro” Provenzano, who was my dear friend. He was a capo. I get a little angry. You know how guys claim to killed Jimmy Hoffa? I think 15. 

Davis: And he’s buried here, there and everywhere. 

Natale: I just gave you the three guys. It will come out. 

Davis: Why do you believe he was he murdered? 

Natale: Because he wanted to come back and take over the union. I got a whole chapter in there. He asked me to help him and it explains it in the book. He was killed because he made the first major mistake in his life. If a man is a gambler, a drinker, a womanizer, he’s got other things to do when he’s retired, you know. Hoffa had only thing – the union. He loved it. He was a rich man but he wanted that union back. I met Hoffa and told him if Ang wants me to help you, fine but if not, I can’t serve two masters. Sorry. That was the last time I saw Jimmy Hoffa and then he was dead. 

Davis: In your book you debunk the idea that Cosa Nostra was against drugs. You write that everybody sold drugs. But why did some bosses like Paul Castellano in New York prohibit them in such a strong way? 

Natale: Listen to me. Let me break that fable. Every mob in New York, Chicago, Philly, always has a man who sells drugs. Everybody handles drugs. There was Joe Bonnano, who in the beginning said no drugs, no drugs, meanwhile he became the biggest rat in the world. You get the bosses’ money, and that’s it. 

Davis: After Bonanno was exiled from New York to Arizona he was suspected of running a major heroin operation from Mexico. 

Natale: Listen to me. There is no crime that cannot be done if you belong to the mob. 

Davis: You spent a good many years in prison and your descriptions of prison life in the book seem almost nostalgic. Was prison life for you like the scenes from the movie Goodfellas? Did you live fairly well inside? 

Natale: That’s another thing they overdid. It’s all bullshit. You go to prison and you got time to do. You do it and it’s hard. Some guys can do it and some guys can’t. I did almost 30 years in prison. So I know what prison is about. 

Davis: Are there plans to make a film from your book? 

Natale: We’re ready to make one. Dan Pearson will be leaving in a couple of weeks to go to Hollywood and sit down and talk turkey with some real big people. You’ll hear about it in two or three weeks. We’re going to make a beautiful movie. 

Davis: Are they going to shoot the film in South Philly? I hope they don’t film it in Pittsburgh or Scranton like they did the film 10^th and Wolf. I grew up near 10^th and Wolf. 

Natale: It is going to be filmed in South Philly and Jersey. 

Davis: Who was the most impressive man you came across? 

Natale: I would have to say that the most impressive man I ever been around was John DiTullio, Skinny Razor. He was the most feared man in the United States, you know. He was number one. And I give you the Chicago guy, Anthony Accardo. When I met him, I thought I was meeting God. 

Davis: What is your life like now? 

Natale: I love my family. I enjoy my wife and all my children. I had five children and they had ten children and now we have 12 great-grandchildren. Can you image that? They are all beautiful and smart and entertaining. They are great looking people.   

Davis: Thanks for talking to me. 

Note: You can read my Washington Times review of Last Don Standing via the below link: 

http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2017/mar/27/book-review-last-don-standing-the-secret-life-of-m/      

A Look Back At A Mafia Prince: My Q&A With Former Philadelphia Cosa Nostra Crime Family Underboss Philip Leonetti

Back in 2013, the Washington Times published my review of Philip Leonetti's book Mafia Prince: Inside America's Most Violent Crime Family and the Bloody Fall of La Cosa Nostra. 

I interviewed the former Philadelphia Cosa Nostra organized crime family underboss who became a government witness for both the Washington Times piece and for my Crime Beat column. 

You can read the 2013 column below:

In my review, I wrote that Nicodemo "Little Nicky" Scarfo, the boss of the Philadelphia-South Jersey Cosa Nostra crime family in the 1980s, has been described by law enforcement officers and former criminal associates as ruthless, homicidal, greedy and paranoid - even by organized crime standards.

Today, Scarfo, 83, sits in federal prison in large part because of Philip "Crazy Phil" Leonetti, his close nephew and criminal underboss, who became a witness against him.

In the book Leonetti tells the inside story of the dark and deadly life in organized crime. 

As I noted in my review, being half-Italian and raised in South Philadelphia - the hub of the Philadelphia-South Jersey Cosa Nostra organized crime family - I was aware of Cosa Nostra culture at an early age. I know or knew of many of the people in this book. I've also interviewed Philadelphia cops and FBI agents from that era, and I found Leonetti's descriptions of events, people and places to be frank and accurate.

Philip Leonetti called me from an undisclosed location, as Scarfo has placed a $500,000 contract on his life, and I interviewed him over the phone.

Below is my Q&A with Philip Leonetti:

Davis: Why did you write this book?

Leonetti: First, I thought it was a great story. I have a son and I really didn’t have much time for him when he was growing up. But by writing this book he now knows what I was going through when he was a little kid and he now realizes my situation. Of course, I never really talked to him. I never went into any details about my life. He knew what type of guy I was and all, but I never explained anything to him. Now he understands a lot better.

Davis: Have you adapted well after a life in organized crime?

Leonetti: Yeah, it’s great. To be honest with you, the way I’m living now is how I wanted to live my whole life. I was doing my duty by the way I was raised, wanting to do the right thing by them, but this is really what I enjoy.

Davis: Many organized crime guys don’t adapt well after they testify, like Sammy “the Bull” Gravano, who went right back into a life of crime. I suppose they like the excitement, the action. You don’t miss that?

Leonetti: I miss the money. But no, it’s too cutthroat. Nobody is your friend. They’re scared of you, that’s why. What I found out afterwards was everyone hated my uncle, and me, because I was with him all of the time. They hated us because of the way we treated everybody. So, no, I don’t miss anything about that life. I make a good living this way.

Davis: In your book you paint a truly chilling portrait of your uncle. How would you describe him?

Leonetti: Psychopathic. You know, you watch The Boardwalk Empire, that guy Rosetti? He’s crazy. My uncle’s like him a little bit. I see my uncle in that guy. But my uncle didn’t go as far as putting a general’s hat on like Rosetti. That guy was really out of his mind.

Davis: The Rosetti character was a psychopath.

Leonetti: Yeah, but my uncle was more devious. He was a lot smarter than this guy on TV. He was the same way, but in a smart way. He was calculating.

Davis:  You were born to a life in Cosa Nostra. What did your uncle teach you about the life?

Leonetti: From when I was little he would tell me we don’t talk about our life to anybody. We’re different. We don’t live by the same rules that everybody else does. Like the laws they have in this country. If somebody bothers us we’ll kill the guy ourselves. We don’t go rat to the police. This is the environment I grew up in.

Davis: Do you have any regrets about your past life, or any regrets about becoming a witness?

Leonetti: Becoming a witness is not a nice thing. You go up on the stand and testify against people that you know. I didn’t enjoy that at all. But I made an agreement with the government and I testified truthfully about everything.

Davis: Was testifying about your crimes cathartic in any way? Do you regret any of the crimes you committed?

Leonetti: I try to weigh things in my mind. All the crimes I committed, like the murders I was involved with, were all against bad people, guys that were involved in our life. So I really didn’t think anything of it. They were looking to kill us and we were looking to kill them. We weren’t looking to kill no legitimate people.

Davis: You admittedly met and committed crimes with some major crime figures, such as your uncle of course, and Meyer Lansky and others. Can you give a brief impression of Lansky?

Leonetti: He was a little old man when I met him, walking this little white dog. He would meet us at the Eden Roc Hotel. We would go there and meet him, Nig Rosen and a couple of other fellas hanging around. We would sit around and have lunch with him. They were characters these guys, especially Meyer. He told stories about his buddy, Ben Siegel, who robbed the money and how he couldn’t save him. He felt bad about him. It was just talk, generally. It was like an honor just to be sitting there.

Davis: From a crime historical point of view, you don’t get much bigger than Meyer Lansky.

Leonetti: No, you don't.

Davis: You also met John Gotti. What was your impression of him?

Leonetti: John Gotti was a gangster. He was a real tough guy. He acted like a tough guy and he didn’t put up with any bullshit. He got along with us and he liked my uncle and he liked me. We met him a few times in New York and he just wanted to be friendly with us. He wanted to have us as his friends.

Davis: He was looking for an ally on the commission, right?

Leonetti: Yeah. We were friends with him because of Sammy - Sammy “the Bull” Gravano - I was real close to Sammy, but we were aligned with the Genovese family.

Davis: What was your impression of Sammy Gravano?

Leonetti: The same type of guy as John Gotti. These guys were all treacherous. Frank DeCiccio and Sammy the Bull were buddies. When John Gotti approached them to kill Gambino boss Paul Castellano, Sammy and Frank DeCiccio talked it over, you know, after John left, and said look, let’s do this because Paul’s not a bargain. So we’ll kill him now and if John does not work out, we’ll kill him too, that’s all. That’s the type of guys these are. They are all stone killers. This is what you get with the mob. That’s why I don’t miss that life.

Davis: What was your impression of Vincent “the Chin” Gigante?

Leonetti: I was never in his company. I dealt with Bobby Manna (the Genovese consigliere).

Davis: You mentioned that these guys were “real gangsters” and you write in your book that your uncle differentiated between a “racketeer” and a “gangster,” and your uncle was proud of being a gangster. What is the difference between the two?

Leonetti: Gangsters are guys like John Gotti, Vincent the Chin and my uncle, and the racketeers are guys like Paul Castellano and Angelo Bruno. They are business-like guys. They were guys who were more involved in business, they weren’t like street guys.

Davis: Who stands out in your mind from the Philadelphia Cosa Nostra crime family during your day? 

Leonetti: When I was around there were guys like me and Chuckie (Merlino) and Salvie (Testa) and Lawrence (Merlino). We were like a close-knit family. When Phil Testa was alive we were with him. These were the guys I was really friendly with.

Davis: You guys were bringing in a lot on money. Do you blame your uncle for spoiling a good thing with his violent leadership of the Philadelphia-South Jersey crime family? There are those who say that his viciousness and murderous ways pushed guys into witness protection.

Leonetti: That’s the life. He couldn’t handle the job. He talked about everybody else going power-crazy, but he went power-crazy. He wanted to kill everybody.

Davis: I lived around the corner from Angelo Bruno when I was a kid and the general impression of him was that he was involved in gambling, but not drugs and murder. In your book you offer a different portrait. You write that he was involved in drugs and he did in fact order murders.

Leonetti: He was the boss of the Philadelphia family. He ordered murders. Before I was made I did beatings for him that he ordered. But let me tell you something, Angelo Bruno was the biggest drug dealer in Philadelphia. He was smart. He was low-key. He was a real businessman. He didn’t want anybody knowing anything. Long John (Martorano) dealt all the drugs for Angelo Bruno, the P2P, with all the motorcycle gangs and the different connections he had.

Davis: Now ongoing is the big federal mob racketeering trial with Joseph Ligambi and others. How do you think it will turn out? And do you think Joe Ligambi is like Angelo Bruno, a low-key businessman type?

Leonetti: Joe Ligambi has more balls than Angelo Bruno. Ang never killed anybody, Joe did.

Davis: I thought that was a requirement.

Leonetti: That was a requirement, yeah, but he got in because he did things for certain guys and they made him.

Davis: Do you think Joe Ligambi and his crew are going to prison?

Leonetti: I was would say yes if it was not for Eddie Jacobs. He is a good lawyer.

Davis: I interviewed Joe Pistone, the FBI Special Agent who went undercover with the Bonanno crime family for six years. He debunked the idea of glamour and honor in Cosa Nostra. He saw mob guys constantly scheming, scamming to make money and worrying about arrested or killed. In your book you recount the high life of organized crime, but you also note the apprehension and fear that goes along with the criminal life. Do you agree with Joe Pistone’s view?

Leonetti: Yeah, we always watched ourselves. We had to be careful with everybody we dealt with. Once you become the boss someone is always looking to get close to you, make a move on you, or something. We were pretty strong. We had everything covered since that was our thing. It would be pretty tough to trick us.

Davis: But even at your leadership level, you lived in fear of your uncle, at least in the later years, didn’t you?

Leonetti: In my later years, yeah. Eventually I knew he would have killed me. He was getting sicker in his mind, thinking that I might make a move against him, which I thought of, but I just couldn’t do it. You know, I killed a lot of people, but I’m just not a killer. I’m not like him in that way.

Davis: From what you wrote and from others I heard that your uncle enjoyed killing.

Leonetti: Yeah, that was his thing.

Davis: But you would not say that about yourself?

Leonetti: No. I tried to do my best to be a good soldier for him with the killing - and I was good at it - but no, that’s not my thing.

Davis: And that is the difference between the two of you?

Leonetti: Yes. He enjoyed it.

Davis: You wrote approvingly of the FBI Special Agents you dealt with when you became a witness. Did that surprise you that they were good guys?

Leonetti: Well, I take everybody as I meet them. I met bad people and these fellas I met happened to be good guys. There was one other guy in the FBI office that didn’t live up to things that he told me, but Jim Maher and Gary Langan took care of me and whatever they said to me they did. They really helped me out after this transition, when I got out of jail and all.

Davis: I interviewed former FBI Special Agent Bud Warner a while back. He was an aggressive street agent in Philadelphia. You didn’t mention him in the book, but I was wondering what you thought of him?

Leonetti: I remember him. I never really dealt with him, but I know my uncle hated him.

Davis: You mentioned Boardwalk Empire, do you watch mob movies like the Godfather and Goodfellas?

Leonetti: Yeah, I do. I liked Goodfellas. It seemed real. The Godfather was a good movie. 

Davis: You mentioned that the reason you wrote the book was for your son, but is there a message for the general reader? 

Leonetti: Well, yes. Don’t get involved with the mob. It looks good from the outside. Everybody thinks you get the best seats in any restaurant and all the money. But it is a different story from the inside. Depending on your personality, you don’t know how long you’re going to live. 

Davis: Do you think your uncle will read your book in prison? And if so, what will he think of it?

Leonetti: Definitely, he'll read it. I think he’ll curse me; he’ll curse the book and say it stinks. He’ll say it’s all a lie. I wish I could listen to him talk on the phones from prison after he reads the book.

Note: The above photos of Philip Leonetti and Nicodemo Scarfo in prison appear curtesy of Philip Leonetti. Scarfo died in prison in 2017. 

You can read my Washington Times review of Mafia Prince via below:

By Paul Davis - Special to The Washington Times - - Friday, January 4, 2013

MAFIA PRINCE: INSIDE AMERICA’S MOST VIOLENT CRIME FAMILY AND THE BLOODY FALL OF LA COSA NOSTRA
By Philip Leonaetti with Scott Burnstein and Christopher Graziano
Running Press, $24, 320 pages 

Nicodemo "Little Nicky" Scarfo, the boss of the Philadelphia-South Jersey La Cosa Nostra crime family in the 1980s, has been described by law enforcement officers and former criminal associates as ruthless, homicidal, greedy and paranoid — even by organized-crime standards.

Today, Scarfo, 83, sits in federal prison in large part because of Philip “Crazy Phil” Leonetti, his close nephew and criminal underboss, who became a witness against him.

Scarfo will not be happy with this book.

In “Mafia Prince,” Leonetti tells the inside story of his uncle’s rise to the leadership of the crime family and his violent seven-year reign. Leonetti also writes about his own criminal acts, which include 10 murders. 

Leonetti tells of being born into La Cosa Nostra. In the absence of Leonetti's father, Scarfo became a surrogate father, raising Leonetti from childhood in their way of life.

Leonetti committed his first murder when he was 23, and he went on to commit countless other murders and criminal acts at his uncle’s side. Between 1976 and 1987, Scarfo and Leonetti made millions of dollars through illegal gambling, loan sharking, extortion and skimming from the Atlantic City casinos.

The two were feared and respected by those in the underworld. A radio DJ called Leonetti “Crazy Phil,” and the nickname stuck. Leonetti said he hated the moniker, but his uncle said most mob guys would love to have a nickname like that.

In “Mafia Prince” Leonetti offers a history of the Philadelphia mob, including the murder of longtime mob boss Angelo Bruno in 1980 and how Scarfo became the boss after Bruno’s successor, Philip “Chicken Man” Testa, was murdered a year later by a powerful nail bomb on his front porch in South Philly. 

Scarfo became the boss in 1981 and began an internecine mob war, leaving bodies on the streets of South Philly. He shook down drug dealers and gamblers and beat or murdered anyone who did not show him the proper “respect.”

Leonetti also writes about accompanying his uncle to meetings with notorious gangsters including Meyer Lansky in Miami and John Gotti and Sammy “the Bull” Gravano in New York.

When Scarfo and Leonetti finally were convicted and received long sentences in prison, Leonetti made a deal with the feds and testified against his uncle and other organized-crime figures.

Being half-Italian and raised in South Philadelphia — the hub of the Philadelphia-South Jersey La Cosa Nostra organized-crime family — I was aware of La Cosa Nostra culture at an early age. I know or knew of many of the people in this book.

I was in my late 20s and early 30s living in South Philly during Scarfo's reign, and I recall vividly the mob war and the many murders that occurred in South Philadelphia and Atlantic City. I’ve also interviewed Philadelphia cops and FBI agents from that era, and I found Leonetti's descriptions of events, people and places to be frank and accurate.

I spoke recently to Philip Leonetti, who called me from an undisclosed location, as his uncle has placed a $500,000 contract on his life. Leonetti told me he wrote the book because, first, it is a great story. Second, he wrote the book so his son will understand his life in organized crime and how he was schooled in La Cosa Nostra from an early age by his uncle.

“From when I was little he would tell me we don’t talk about our life to anybody,” Leonetti told me. “We’re different; we don’t live by the same rules like everybody else. If somebody bothers us, we’ll kill the guy ourselves. We don’t rat to the police. This is the environment I grew up in.”

He described his uncle as smart, devious, calculating and psychopathic. Leonetti admitted to committing murders and said he tried to be a good soldier for his uncle by killing — and he was good at it — but he didn’t enjoy the act like his uncle did.

“All the crimes I committed, like the murders I was involved in, were all against bad people, guys that were involved in our life, so I didn’t think anything of it,” Leonetti explained. “They were looking to kill us, and we were looking to kill them. We weren’t looking to kill no legitimate people.”

Leonetti said he is happy in his new straight life, and he wishes he had lived this way all his life. He said he did not miss the treachery and killing from his past life in La Cosa Nostra, but he admitted, “I miss the money.”

“Mafia Prince” offers an insider’s history of the dark, violent world of Cosa Nostra.

• Paul Davis is a writer who covers crime, espionage and terrorism. He can be reached at pauldavisoncrime@aol.com.