Crime: Their Thing

In the back room of a New York restaurant in 1930, Joseph Valachi swore his dark oath of allegiance to organized crime. Blood ran from a ceremonial wound in his finger, and the young ex-convict vowed unquestioning obedience to his Mafia overlords. He muttered a final pledge: “If I talk, I’m dead.”

For 30 years Valachi kept faith with “omerta” the underworld’s blood rule of silence. Then, in 1960, he was imprisoned on a narcotics violation. Suspecting that he was turning informer, the underworld marked him for death. Crazy with fear, Valachi turned to the FBI for protection and began to sing for his life. Last week the word was out that the underworld has put a $100,000 price on Valachi’s head. But Valachi, now 60, has already told his story — a bizarre account of a blood stained crime syndicate, fondly dubbed Cosa Nostra (Our Thing).

The Law of Terror. Cosa Nostra is run like a feudal state at war. Its “soldiers,” the everyday thugs, are organized into “regimas” and led by “lieutenants.” The regimas, in turn, are organized into “families” and bossed by twelve ‘”capos” (heads), each representing a geographic area, who make up Cosa Nostra’s grand council, and to gether are the final arbiters of the syndicate’s affairs. Chief among them is convicted Narcotics Racketeer Vito Genovese. From Leavenworth Penitentiary, Genovese still communicates his decisions to the mob through ex-cons or in codes sent by letter or visitors.

The law of Cosa Nostra is inflexible. Only those who boast Italian parentage may take the oath. Anyone who “goes wrong” (informs) is condemned to death and must be “hit” (murdered). The assignment to carry out the death sentence is a “contract.” The contracts are awarded to other members who, unlike the highly paid assassins of Murder, Inc., carry them out without pay to demonstrate their loyalty.

To Avenge a Pal. Inevitably, the division of powers in Cosa Nostra has bred jealousies. Valachi for the first time linked some of the top names of gangland past and present in a drama of rivalry and murder.

Already a power in 1957, Vito Genovese coveted the influence of New York Gambling Czar Frank Costello (now fighting deportation). But Costello would not budge. Infuriated, Genovese gave his chauffeur a contract on Costello. The chauffeur took a clumsy shot at Costello in the lobby of his Manhattan apartment, succeeded only in creasing his skull.

That angered the infamous Albert Anastasia, a Costello crony and one time high executioner for Murder, Inc. Anastasia was further enraged when another old mobster buddy, Frank Scalise, was hit on Genovese’s order a month later for selling memberships in Cosa Nostra for $50,000 apiece. To Anastasia’s mind, that broke Lucky Luciano’s old law that the Cosa Nostra higher-ups should never be physically punished but only fined by the grand council. Word went out that Anastasia would retaliate against Genovese.

But Genovese moved first, recruited Anastasia’s own top lieutenant, Carlo Gambino, to help set up his boss for a hit. In October 1957, two Brooklyn hoods hired by Genovese gunned down Anastasia as he sat in a barber’s chair in Manhattan’s Park Sheraton Hotel. Seven more gunmen were waiting, just in case the first pair muffed the job.

It was that bloody feud that led to the Apalachin summit meeting of Cosa Nostra higher-ups in November 1957. There the council approved Genovese’s action, and he emerged as undisputed boss. For his part, Gambino inherited Anastasia’s spot as a New York capo.

The Second-Class Rackets. More than internal rivalry has sapped the strength of Cosa Nostra in recent years. Its profitable trafficking in narcotics and prostitution has become too dangerous. Now it has been reduced to such second-class rackets as Shylocking (lending money at exorbitant interest rates), gambling and extortion.

Valachi’s singing is the greatest threat yet. Later this month he will testify before the Senate’s McClellan committee. Already the Justice Department is readying a score of new indictments. But the Government’s fear has been that Valachi’s startling confession might touch off a new wave of gangland killings as hoodlums sought to weed out bad risks. At week’s end it happened. Two Brooklyn thugs died as bullets sprayed their cars in two separate attacks. One was a member of the Gallo gang, from which killers had been recruited for the rub-out of Albert Anastasia; the other was an ex-Gallo hoodlum who had deserted to a rival Brooklyn gang. Little wonder that many a mobster was muttering “Cosa Nostra si sta rompendo” (Our Thing is breaking).