The Supreme Court: Boss of All Bosses

He maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.

—The Sermon on the Mount

With the impartiality of sun and rain, Supreme Court decisions take no account of whether individuals are evil or good, just or unjust. Under the Constitution, the hood has the same inalienable rights as the law-abiding citizen.

Last week the Supreme Court handed down a ruling that cleared the way for a new trial for a group of federal prisoners convicted of operating a narcotics ring. The most notable hood in the unwholesome crew is a man generally recognized as the No. 1 overlord of crime in the U.S.—Vito Genovese.

Kind & Gentle. To his neighbors in Atlantic Highlands, N.J., the quiet suburban town where he lived for some 30 years and raised his two children, Genovese seemed a “kind and gentle man.” But according to Joe Valachi, the underworld canary who sang for the Senate’s McClellan committee, Neapolitan-born Racketeer Genovese, 65, is the “boss of all bosses.” He arrived, Valachi explained, by a straightforward tactic: he had his rivals murdered.

Genovese operated mostly around New York City, specializing in gambling and narcotics. As far back as 1947, New York’s Governor Thomas Dewey called him “the new king of the rackets.” And king or not, he made crime pay. His wealth, said Valachi, “would break the adding machine.” His estranged wife said that Genovese was worth over $30 million, mostly stashed away in safe-deposit boxes.

Troubled Tightwad. For all his money, though, Genovese was a tightwad. Fearful that members of his dope ring might cheat him, he mixed into narcotics dealings that he might well have handled by remote control. In 1957 a Genovese dope peddler arrested in Manhattan got sore because the boss failed to come to his rescue with a bail bond and a lawyer. The prisoner got even by spilling the gang’s secrets; two years later Genovese and fourteen other hoods were convicted of violating federal narcotics laws. The boss was sentenced to 15 years in prison.

After the Supreme Court refused to review his case, Genovese began to spend his money wisely. He hired Edward Bennett Williams, one of the nation’s shrewdest trial lawyers. Williams promptly petitioned for a new trial. During their original appearance in court, he argued, the defense had not had access to the prosecution’s notes on the pretrial testimony of the disgruntled dope peddler. In 1957, Williams pointed out, the Supreme Court had ruled in Jencks v. U.S. that a defendant in a criminal proceeding is entitled to see reports of pretrial testimony.

Lower courts denied Williams’ motion. But the Supreme Court sent the case back to the Court of Appeals for “further consideration.” While he waits for the next decision, Genovese is not likely to go free on bail, but the Supreme Court ruling is almost sure to have a strange side effect: the impending struggle for power among big-time U.S. hoods will be postponed while the top men wait to see whether Genovese is freed to resume his old place as No. 1.