Frank Cali was eyed as the great hope of the American Mafia in general and the Gambino crime family in particular.
So, it came as a shock to gangland observers when the 53-year-old mobster was clipped outside his Staten Island home on March 13, 2019.
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But it wasn’t underworld rivals that sent Franky Boy to the sweet hereafter: It was a lovelorn Qanon follower who had designs on the gangster’s niece.
Nearly 33 years have passed since the boss of bosses Paul Castellano was rubbed out in a spectacular gangland hit in Midtown Manhattan days before Christmas in 1985.
Since then, the Mafia has seen a slew of gangsters turn against their cohorts. Numerous bosses have been flipped or been caged and traditional rackets have evaporated.
New York City remains the underworld’s big daddy but the Five Families — the Gambinos, the Colombos, the Luccheses, the Genoveses and Bonnanos — have been greatly diminished, as they have in places like Chicago, Philadelphia, Detroit and all points in between.
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“It’s totally different now,” former Gambino underboss Salvatore “Sammy the Bull” Gravano told The Toronto Sun in an exclusive interview.
“It’s more about making money but the quality control of the people has been lost. They don’t kill anymore, there’s no bodies popping up. They don’t kill nobody. How do you keep guys in line?”
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Gravano is the most famous turncoat in mob history. His testimony against John Gotti sent the Teflon Don to prison where he died of cancer in 2002.
On the way, Gravano sent 19 fellow mobsters to their graves and masterminded the brazen 1985 hit on Castellano. Today, he has a weekly podcast and consults on TV shows and movies.
He likens the Mafia of 2023 to a one-time industrial powerhouse that has unshackled itself from high-risk enterprises and stripped down to the essentials.
“We were into everything in the 1970s and 80s. Construction, jewelry, clothing, bakeries, all aspects of building, plus the usual shakedowns and shylocking,” Gravano said. “I don’t even think they have hitmen now.”
He is, of course, right. In the U.S. and Canada, in the past two decades, the Mafia has outsourced murder, mostly to street gangs.
Gravano and others lay part of the decline at the feet of the omnipotent Racketeer Influenced Corrupt Organization (RICO) laws that have shackled mobsters from doing business. And the feds have gotten much better at obliterating the revered code of silence, or omerta.
“I was talking to a fed I know and he said, ‘These guys have to look over their shoulder all the time now. We have confidential informants everywhere, including social clubs,'” Gravano said. “How can you operate like that?”
As a result, the old gangster said mobsters have become more cautious. No one, he said, wants to go to prison.
“Some knob in Washington won’t let me go back to New York City. They’re not afraid I’m gonna get whacked, those guys are all dead, they think I’m going to take over the rackets,” he said, adding “no thanks.”
He said: “Everything changed. The Mafia changed. Sure, there’s some tough guys that are like foxes but they don’t want to crack an egg now.”
Back in the day, savvy mobsters stayed away from peddling drugs. In theory, the crime families forbade it, the penalties were stiff despite the profits, and it could turn traffickers into canaries.
Even when Gravano was still in the game as Gambino underboss in the late 1980s and early 90s, things were changing, he said. The Chicago Outfit is a shadow of itself and others fared worse.
“I was at a meeting in New Orleans and I asked ‘How many guys you got?’ There was the boss, the consigliere, two capos and six to eight made guys. That’s a joke,” he said.
Depending on who you ask, the former powerhouse Big Easy crime family run by Carlo Marcello is dormant or extinct. Same with San Francisco, St. Louis, Dallas and Baltimore.
“Buffalo and places like that went down to nothing. They’ve apparently started making guys again but for what? A lot of these guys aren’t going to cut it. Smart guys are gonna ask: What do I need the Mafia for?” he said, adding younger crooks won’t want to “kick up.”
Now 76 years old and living his best life, when the Brooklyn-born reformed mobster turned cooperating witness and torpedoed the Teflon Don, there was a big target on his back.
He was in the witness protection program before he was arrested for trafficking in club drug ecstasy. He has no fear that he’ll be whacked.
“There’s all kinds of guys walking around who became cooperating witnesses. They have no fear of being whacked. In the old days, they would be dead men,” he said.
“The Mafia has become more like the Lion’s Club or the Elks. They still follow a little bit of the code.”
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Now, it’s tough to turn on the TV without seeing a true crime documentary on the Mafia. And former wiseguys are lined up to sing.
“These guys are out there, talking the talk, guys who were never even made. How the f— would you know what went down? You weren’t even there. You were a kid,” Gravano said.
“These guys are lying through their teeth.”
bhunter@postmedia.com
@HunterTOSun
