Cullotta: The Life of a Chicago Criminal, Las Vegas Mobster and Government Witness (7 page)

A jeweler from New York was bringing a big load of diamonds to town and would be robbed when the diamonds were delivered to a shop in the Maller Building, a high-rise that housed wholesale jewelry stores.

“The place we’re going to hit is in the Maller Building on Wabash,” Tony told Frank. “There will be four guys on the job, two doing the robbery and two inside men. I won’t be there, but I’ll get an equal split of the take. It’s going to be a big score.”

“Who else have you got besides me?”

“The two Jew brothers that own the store are in on the deal with us; they’re our inside guys. You and I will pick the fourth man.” “Let’s do it,” Frank said.

They selected the fourth crew member, cased the Maller Building, and made their plans. On the appointed day, Frank and his accomplice, each carrying a briefcase containing a .45 revolver, entered the building, took the stairs to the second floor, the elevator to the seventh, and the stairs to the eighth. When they got to the store, they were buzzed into a lobby area. Frank’s partner flashed a private-investigator’s business card that allowed them to enter an inner room. In the second room were the two store owners and the New York jeweler. Frank and his partner forced the three to the floor, tied them up, and closed all the blinds.

As planned, the safe was empty, but Frank went through the motions of searching it to make it look good to the New Yorker. Then he searched the man’s attaché case. Inside were packages and packages of diamonds; the thieves had found what they’d come for. For appearances sake, the robbers continued to look around for another ten minutes, then left.

After getting back to their car, Frank drove downtown while his associate opened up some of the packages. Suddenly the other man said, “Motherfucker! I think there’s more here than they told us.”

“Let’s see,” Frank said, glancing at the opened packages. “What are we going to do?”

Frank shrugged. “We can’t do anything. We already made our

When they arrived at the designated meeting place, they turned all the diamonds over to Tony and a guy named Mike, who’d set up the job. The value of the merchandise wasn’t mentioned. The following day the newspaper reports stated that the stolen diamonds had a value of $500,000. The cut Frank and the other guy got was based on a take of a lot less than that. But Frank knew better than to mention it. He told his confederate, “I’m not going to start a war by accusing Tony of shorting us.”

The brothers who owned the store claimed the loss on their insurance and collected big. In addition, they got their cut from the score itself. But the cops were suspicious of them and put on a lot of pressure. One of the brothers couldn’t handle it and eventually committed suicide.

Frank did a slow burn over getting shorted by Tony and the mob, but he kept his feelings to himself. Still, it reinforced his inclination to remain independent when shortly after the diamond heist, Tony again pressured Frank to join up.

“Frankie, you’ve got all that money now and you should put it to work for you. The stuff I’m involved in is better than robbing places all the time. Let me show you how to do it.”

“I don’t know. I do all right on my own and I don’t have to answer to anybody.”

“Listen to me, Frankie. Let me set you up with a few accounts you can loan your money to. You’ll get back ten percent a week in interest. Even after you give the Outfit their cut, you’ll make out pretty good. Trust me, I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”

Reluctantly, Frank agreed. “Okay, I’ll give it a try.”

Tony set Frank up to put his money out on the street. But the fledgling loanshark wasn’t impressed with the business. He constantly had to chase guys to collect what they owed him. After about a year of having to holler, threaten, and break some heads, Frank came to the conclusion that loansharking just wasn’t his bag. Instead, he hooked up with a couple of guys, Billy McCarthy and Jimmy Miraglia, to do commercial burglaries.

The newly formed trio of Cullotta, McCarthy, and Miraglia went on a robbery binge, hitting department and jewelry stores. Their efforts were usually successful and they made some hefty scores. In addition to the actual thefts, Frank and his crew spent a lot of time keeping their equipment in good working order and improving their methods whenever possible.

The thieves drove fast cars that were licensed to fictitious addresses. They used a currency-exchange guy who could get the license plates. He was expensive, but he got the cars licensed and that was all that mattered. In addition, the work cars were modified to conceal a variety of weapons, including handguns and sawed-off shotguns. The hiding places were under the dash, inside the door panels, and in back of the driver’s seat.

Knowing what the police were doing was vital to their success. Frank had a talent when it came to electronics and he put it to use.

The police were starting to be equipped with portable radios. Frank thought it would be a good idea for his crew to have them, too. But he had to figure out how to put together a portable police radio.
He contacted a guy with radio expertise named Ronnie. They got together and went over numerous radio books. “I want something that’s small and easy to conceal,” Frank said.

“How small?” Ronnie asked.

“I want the radios to fit inside a camera case.”

Ronnie thought for a while, then he smiled. “We can do it. All we have to do is build circuit boards.”

In those days police calls weren’t scanned like they are today, so the radio needed only one crystal. But Frank and Ronnie put in three so they could switch channels. For power they used four square “C” batteries.

The addition of the portables let the guys doing the burglaries listen to the police calls directly. That meant the work-car driver didn’t have to have a radio himself; he’d be told by walkie-talkie if something was coming down. And if the work car was stopped by the police, the driver wouldn’t be charged with illegal possession of a police radio.

Frank was concerned that if the cops found out about the radios, they’d change their procedures. For that reason it was important that none of the radios fall into police hands. He decided that any extra radios they made would only be sold to the best thieves, those with the least chance of being caught.

The thieves regularly removed safes from burglarized businesses and transported them to one of their garages. If the safe’s doors were square, they were peeled open with a power tool. If the safe had round doors, the crew filled it with water or sand, then cut open the doors with an acetylene torch. The purpose of the sand or water was to protect any paper money inside the safe from burning up. Once in a while a few dollars burned, but the most work came as a result of the money being wet. The damp cash was first dried in a regular clothes dryer, then every bill had to be ironed to remove the wrinkles.

Frank’s gang didn’t confine its efforts to Chicago; they roamed as far away as New Orleans. A tipster claimed a Big Easy Sears store regularly held around $90,000 in cash on the weekends. With that kind of incentive, the thieves headed to Louisiana.

The burglars cased the store and located all the security equipment. Only the doors and windows were alarmed. They decided to bypass the alarms by going in through the roof. But when they went back the next day, they immediately ran into trouble. The roof was concrete and they couldn’t get through it. As an alternative, the burglars pried up an air-conditioning vent and started down. The first guy made it okay, but Frank got stuck part way. The guy below pulled him by the ankles and the one above put his feet on Frank’s shoulders and pushed him through.

When they got to the vault, another surprise awaited them: It was encased in an ADT alarm box they couldn’t penetrate. McCarthy asked, “What the fuck are we going to do now?”

“There’s no sense in going away blank,” Miraglia said. “Let’s take all the goddamn furs.”

Frank disagreed. “Furs are too risky, and the stuff they carry here isn’t top of the line. It’s not worth it. Let’s chalk it up as a bad day and get out of here.”

Frank refused to go back into the vent shaft, so he busted out a window and used it as an exit. The would-be thieves escaped with their equipment, but from Frank’s perspective it was a very bad trip.

Frank and his crew needed a quick score. Frank knew a woman who worked for the rapid transit company and she told him about all the money the stations had in their booths. People paid for their monthly passes on certain days and the money stayed in the booth until a Brinks truck came for it near the end of the month. Frank cased one of the booths and watched as the passengers made their payments. When the time was right, he and one accomplice did the robbery. The booth had two doors and two female clerks working. The robbers kicked in the doors, dumped the money into a bag, and left. It was an easy $15,000 score, which eased the pain of the New Orleans fiasco.

Frank also started to commit some crimes on the federal level, burglarizing post offices. The goal wasn’t cash, but stamps. These jobs were a piece of cake.

Post offices weren’t alarmed then. Entry was easy and safes were big. The burglars peeled off the safe’s door panels using a portable power tool. Then they spun the dial, lined up the bolts, and opened the door.

Postage stamps were five or six cents at the time. Tony set Frank up with a guy who paid a penny per stamp. That may not sound like much, but those safes contained sheet after sheet of stamps. Frank did only two post offices burglaries, though. He knew the feds would start setting traps and he didn’t want any federal charges.

Jimmy Miraglia, Frank’s friend and co-thief, hung out with a guy named Mike Joyce. Though the three men went out on the saloon circuit once in a while, Frank considered Joyce a loose cannon, an Irishman who turned into a lunatic with a few drinks in him. When feeling his oats, Joyce didn’t hesitate to pull a gun and let the rounds fly.

One night Frank, Jimmy, and Mike were in a place called Nicky’s MGM Bar in Cicero. Mike didn’t like a song on the jukebox and wanted it changed. The bartender refused. Mike whipped out his pistol and shot up the jukebox.

“Cool it, you idiot!” Frank told him. “This place is Outfit-connected.”

“Fuck ’em,” Mike said.

Joyce got away easy on that one. All he had to do was replace the jukebox, but he was warned not to do it again.

Another time the same threesome was in another Outfit-connected tavern in Elmwood Park. Two big guys at the bar turned out to be pro football players. The football players were drunk and obnoxious. Mike was small and thin and had the “little-man complex.” He decided to tell the football players to shut up. They picked him up and threw him outside. Pretty soon Mike came back through the door, but this time he was carrying two pistols. The fight was on and the other patrons joined Frank, Jimmy, and Mike in whipping up on the football players.

Again, the Outfit wasn’t happy about it. They didn’t want people like Mike coming into their places, waving guns around, and making a mess. Mike got another warning, more stern than the first. But he was a slow learner. Eventually, the Outfit had enough of Mike. They shot him in the head, cut off his penis and stuffed it into his mouth, then torched him and his car. He was burned almost beyond recognition.

What happened to Mike Joyce for annoying the Outfit should have been a lesson to others. But Billy McCarthy and Jimmy Miraglia also proved to be slow learners.

One night Billy McCarthy was out drinking by himself. He went into the Black Door, a saloon in Rosemont owned by Frank Pondeleo, an associate of Paul “the Waiter” Ricca, second in command of the Chicago Outfit. Two brothers, Ronnie and Phil Scalvo, managed it for Pondeleo. Their father was closely tied to Tony Accardo.

Billy got into an argument with Ronnie that turned into a fistfight. Ronnie and Phil beat up Billy and threw him out of the bar. Billy found Jimmy and Frank and told them what had happened. He wanted to go back to the bar and get revenge.

Frank said, “I know how you feel, Billy, but you’ve got to forget about it. That place is connected and you can’t fuck around with those guys. If we start any more trouble, they’ll whack us all.”

But Billy didn’t listen. A couple of nights later, he and Jimmy went back to the Black Door to get even with the Scalvos. Instead, they got another beating. Frank saw them the day after and they were still in a rage. They wanted to kill the Scalvos and asked Frank to come in on it with them. Knowing how well-connected the Scalvos were, that was the last thing he wanted to do. On the other hand, Jimmy and Billy were part of his crew and he felt he owed them some loyalty. Reluctantly, he agreed, but with the understanding that the killings couldn’t take place on mob turf.

Jimmy had a fictitiously licensed work car with a hopped-up engine and hiding places inside to stash guns. For about a week they went back and forth to the lounge watching the brothers, hoping to catch them alone and follow them away from the bar to hit them. But every time the Scalvos left the tavern, a cocktail waitress left with them. The Outfit frowned on killing innocent bystanders, so Frank’s crew continued to wait for the right opportunity.

One night Frank and a girl were bowling when Billy McCarthy came into the alley looking for him. “Jimmy and I are going to the Black Door tonight. Do you want to come with us?”

Frank nodded toward his girl. “I’m on a date. But I can send her home and go along with you if you want.”

Billy thought it over for a few seconds. “Never mind. You stay with her.”

“Here, you’d better take the key to my garage, in case you need any guns. You know where they are.” Frank handed over the key.

After Billy left, Frank and his date bowled a couple more games, but he felt uneasy. He asked the girl to drive him over to the Black Door. They pulled in to get gas at a station near the bar. There, Frank saw Jimmy’s work car come around the corner and drive away. Afterward, Frank and his girl went to a motel and spent the night. When they left the motel the next morning, Frank turned on the car radio and heard a news flash about a triple murder in Elmwood Park, a suburb about seven miles from Rosemont. Two men and a woman had been gunned down in their car on a side street. No identities were given, but he was pretty sure who the dead people were. It looked like Billy and Jimmy not only killed guys who were connected, they also hit the waitress. Worse yet, they did it in Elmwood Park, a heavily Outfit-connected area. Frank knew if the Outfit identified Billy and Jimmy as the shooters, they were goners. There would be no warnings or second chances.