A Turncoat’s Risks, Rewards

This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

The New York Sun

As drug dealer Burton Kaplan was burying ex-detectives Louis Eppolito and Stephen Caracappa with four days of devastating testimony about murders and mob mayhem, a casual observer might have gotten the notion that it’s easy to be a cooperating witness: Just get up on the stand and spill your guts for a get-out-of-jail-free card and a complimentary ticket to a secret hideaway far from the madding crowd.


That certainly is a distinct possibility. But there’s an art to the deal. Those who do right by the feds, especially over an extended period of time, can do pretty well for themselves. As the “Mafia Cops” jury learned early on – it began deliberating the detectives’ fate yesterday – one time acting Luchese boss Alfonse “Little Al” D’Arco served only one night in custody for racketeering charges that included 10 murders.


Those who don’t measure up, for whatever reason, can pay dearly.


Take a former Luchese underboss, Anthony “Gaspipe” Casso, perhaps the greatest failed turncoat of all time.


Despite his involvement in 37 slayings, Casso initially wrangled a cooperation deal on the basis that he could implicate the ex-NYPD detectives in murder. But he managed to quickly fall out of favor after he stretched the truth and then committed crimes while housed in a special prison unit for cooperating witnesses. The result? Casso got the same sentence he probably would have gotten in the first place – life in prison.


The hapless Gaspipe made a lastditch effort to elbow his way into the Mafia Cops case, this time as a defense witness. (He tried the same tactic in the 1997 trial of late Mafia boss Vincent “Chin” Gigante.) No luck. He’s still cooling his heels in the Supermax federal facility in Florence, Colo.


Casso, who was labeled a “homicidal maniac”during the trial by both prosecutors and defense lawyers, is only the most prominent example. For a real hard-luck case – and some downright stupidity – consider the fate of Vincent “Vinny Baldy” Salanardi. Hit with racketeering charges along with 21 other Luchese wiseguys and associates in 2002, Salanardi signed a cooperation agreement with federal prosecutors in Brooklyn, only to have it breached by the government.


Salanardi, who never killed anyone, was hammered two weeks ago with an 11-year, three-month prison term – more than three years greater than the longest stretch received by any of his 35 co-defendants. All copped plea deals, many after Vinny Baldy began cooperating, including some who were later indicted on information he provided.


Brooklyn federal Judge Nicholas Garaufis also ordered Salanardi, 42, to fork over $35,000 in restitution, according to the court docket sheet in the case.


Most of the court papers in Salanardi’s case are sealed, and neither his lawyer, Jerry Tritz, nor the prosecutor, Thomas Seigel, would discuss his failed efforts to cooperate. Sources said Vinny Baldy turned on his cohorts shortly after they were snared shaking down the owners of a popular Freeport, Long Island, eatery for a staggering $10,000 a night.


Salanardi’s first mistake was failing to tell the feds about a $15,000 loanshark debt he was owed by a businessman, sources said. He made things worse by having his girlfriend collect $900 in interest payments from the customer while Vinny Baldy was cooperating. His biggest mistake, however, was continuing to lie about his actions after FBI agents and federal prosecutors got wise to his scam and confronted him several times about it. It wasn’t until he learned that the feds were tearing up his agreement that Vinny Baldy owned up to his deception and begged forgiveness. By then, however, it was too late.


While Salanardi’s situation is not as onerous as Casso’s, it’s bad enough.


In September, Vinny Baldy was removed from a special unit for cooperating witnesses. For the next six or so years, he’ll either be looking over his shoulder at inmates in the general prison population, or sitting in a “hole” somewhere – in segregated confinement for his own protection.


Salanardi is not the first cooperating witness to lie to the feds. Most, however, are smart enough to ‘fess up when confronted, rather than risk losing their deal. Take turncoat Bonanno capo Dominick Cicale, who testified two weeks ago against his one-time mentor, the acting Bonanno boss,Vincent “Vinny Gorgeous” Basciano.


When he offered to cooperate in January, he initially lied about machine guns and other weapons that he had given his cousin to hold for him. But Cicale quickly admitted his lie, and his cooperation agreement is intact.


Meanwhile, another Luchese turncoat with at least four murders on his mob resume, Frank Smith, has finessed his way into a sweet situation even though the feds are not too happy about his recent efforts for them, sources have told Gang Land.


Smith, who served 15 years on a drug rap for which he was wrongly convicted, gave the feds information that enabled them to convict a Colombo underboss, Joel “Joe Waverly” Cacace, for the 1987 mistaken-identity murder of the father of a former federal prosecutor.


After being sentenced to a year’s house arrest for the slaying of 78-year-old George Aronwald and three other murders, Smith suffered a severe memory loss about other topics, including a Casso plot to kill Kaplan when Gaspipe was arrested in January 1993, sources said.


Kaplan learned about the murder plot and testified about it himself at the trial. As a result, Smith caught another break when, for that and other reasons,his testimony about the matter became a dead issue, sources said.


***


Dominick Cicale met Vinny Gorgeous in 1999 after Cicale’s uncle, Peter Cicale, a Luchese associate, had driven him to a meeting with mobster Anthony “Bruno” Indelicato at a Midtown Manhattan restaurant and Bruno brought along Basciano.


After some small talk, during which Cicale, who had met Indelicato in federal prison, said he wanted to hook up with the Bonannos, Indelicato gave him a contact number, and the men said goodbye and left, the Cicales in one car, and the Bonannos in the other.


It was a special night. After nine years in prison, Cicale had been home less than a week and he had already made inroads into the Bonanno family. On their way home, as an added treat, his uncle took him to Rao’s, the East Harlem eatery favored by wiseguys, movie stars, and politicians, who love to rub elbows with each other. His special night turned out even better. To Cicale’s surprise, Bruno and Vinny Gorgeous also had stopped at the legendary 11-table restaurant. While there, Cicale testified, his old cellmate already had good news to report.


“He informed me that Vincent Basciano liked the way I conducted myself and he asked if I wanted to be around” Indelicato, Cicale recalled. The elated wannabe wiseguy had a one-word response: “Yes.”



This column and other news of organized crime will appear later today at www.ganglandnews.com.


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