Cullotta: The Life of a Chicago Criminal, Las Vegas Mobster and Government Witness (8 page)

Frank saw Billy at the bowling alley the following night. He thought Billy looked pale and acted antsy. “What did you do with the guns you took from my garage?” Frank asked.

“We had to dump them.”

“Did you and Jimmy use them to whack the Scalvos and the broad?”

“We didn’t do that, Frankie. I’m glad they’re dead, but it wasn’t us.”

Frank didn’t believe him, but he didn’t question him further.

A couple of days later Tony was at Frank’s door. Tony said they had to talk and he didn’t pull any punches. “I know you hang out with Billy and Jimmy. They had a problem with the Scalvo brothers and now the Scalvos are dead, along with a waitress. They [the Outfit] think you, Billy, and Jimmy were the hit men.”

“I had nothing to do with that, Tony, absolutely nothing,” Frank said.

“Look, Frankie, I’ve been sticking up for you with these people. I personally guaranteed them you weren’t there, that if you knew anything you’d tell me, huh? But here’s the way it is. You’ve got to give up Billy and Jimmy. If you don’t, I can’t save you.”

Frank was annoyed that Tony was trying to score points with the Outfit bosses. But he knew he had no choice in the matter. If he tried to cover for Billy and Jimmy, he’d be dead, too. Frank told Tony what happened the night of the murders, that Billy and Jimmy had done them using guns they’d taken from his garage.

Tony seemed satisfied. “You done the right thing, Frankie. Those guys fucked up bad and now they have to pay. But you’ve got no problem; you’re going to be okay.”

When Tony left, Frank knew Billy and Jimmy had no chance.

Two days later Tony asked Frank to meet him at the bowling alley. Both men were nervous. Frank figured he’d be asked to set up his friends and it was Tony’s responsibility to convince the Outfit that Frank was innocent of the Scalvo killings.

Tony said, “They want to talk to Billy McCarthy and they need your help in making the arrangements.”

Frank knew that if he didn’t cooperate, he, too, would be a dead man. “What do you want me to do?”

“Call Billy and ask him to meet you at the North Avenue Chicken House at eight o’clock tonight.”

Frank got Billy on the phone and scheduled the meet. Tony made a couple of calls on the pay phone and told Frank, “Meet me at the Howard Johnson’s on North Avenue at seven forty-five. Make sure you bring your car.”

Frank knew better than to ask questions.

That night he met Tony and an Outfit driver named Saint at Howard Johnson’s. Tony took Frank’s car and left him with Saint. Saint popped his front radio speaker and pulled out a .38. Frank turned toward him and his right hand went behind his back, where he had a gun in his waistband. Saint, knowing Frank was ready to protect himself, put his gun in a less threatening position between his legs. About forty minutes later, Tony returned. He said to Frank, “Here’s your car. See you later.” Frank heard him tell Saint there hadn’t been any problems.

The following morning, Billy’s wife called Frank. “Where’s Billy?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him.”

“Something’s wrong, I know it. He always calls me if he’s going to be late or isn’t coming home.”

“I’ll keep my ears open. I’ll call you if I hear anything.”

Frank didn’t know for sure what had happened to Billy, but in his heart he figured his buddy was dead. He got part of the story talking with Tony about ten days later.

“Billy’s wife called me a few days ago looking for him,” Frank said.

“Frankie, Billy’s gone. It’s all over. Forget about it, it’s done. I don’t want you to say anything to Jimmy about it, though.”

“Can you tell me what happened that night at the Chicken House?”

“I guess so. Billy was in the restaurant looking for you. I told him you were outside waiting for him. I said, ‘Let’s go see him.’ When we got outside, Billy saw the Outfit guys and went for his gun. I grabbed him around the neck and shoved him in the Outfit car. Frank, Billy went rather easily.”

Frank saw Jimmy Miraglia in a restaurant a few nights later. “Have you seen Billy around?” Frank asked.

“No, no I haven’t. Why?”

“Don’t you think that’s kind of strange? Maybe you ought to make yourself scarce.”

“I’m not worried. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Frank learned later that the next night, Jimmy was in a lounge and some Outfit guys were outside in their work car, laying for him. Jimmy got lucky that night when the police spotted the car and searched it. They found a stash of guns and arrested everybody. That should have been another message for Jimmy, who should have run like hell right then, but he didn’t. They got Jimmy the next day.

Tony told Frank all about it shortly afterward.

“Jimmy was in a lounge when we got him. We took him in the liquor storage room and beat him, but we didn’t kill him. We left him locked in the room and while we were gone, Jimmy got into the booze. He was drunk when we came back for him. We took him out and put him in the trunk of his own car. Saint and I were in the follow car. While we were driving Jimmy apparently pulled out the wires for the brake lights. When we saw the brake lights in his car go, out we motioned for the driver to pull over so we could find out what the problem was. As soon as we opened the trunk Jimmy jumped out and made a run for it. We caught him, knocked him out, and took him to where we were keeping Billy’s body.

“Jimmy knew he was going to be killed. He asked to be strangled so his wife could collect some insurance money. We did what he wanted and dumped him in the trunk of a car along with Billy. Then we drove the car to another neighborhood and ditched it. A couple of days later somebody noticed the stench and called the cops.”

Tony was in a talkative mood that day and divulged the rest of the story about the night Billy McCarthy was killed. He said, “He was one tough fucking Irishman. We beat that motherfucker with everything, but he wouldn’t tell us who did the Scalvos with him. We finally got so pissed off we put his head in a vise and turned it. The kid’s eyeball popped right out of his fuckin’ head. Billy begged me to kill him. He gave up Jimmy’s name just before he died.”

Even though Tony told Frank he was off the hook for the Scalvo killings, Cullotta was too close to what became known as the M&M Murders for comfort. He remained very cautious for the next six months. He installed security lights around his house and garage. Every time he opened the garage door, it lit up like the Loop. He even had a remote starter put on his car. They were fairly new on the market and it cost about $800, but as far as Frank was concerned, it was one of the best investments he ever made. Every day he used that remote before getting in the car. When there was no explosion, he knew he was home free. He didn’t tell anybody about the starter. He considered it a life-insurance policy.

Not that Frank didn’t feel bad about the deaths of Billy McCarthy and Jimmy Miraglia. Billy and Jimmy had been his friends and he set them up to be murdered. But he’d tried to talk them out of the course of action that seemed destined to destroy them. After they refused to heed his warnings, Frank did what he had to do in order to ensure his own survival.

Tony stayed in touch with Frank regularly during that period. “Relax, Frankie,” he said. “You did the Outfit a great favor with Billy and Jimmy. They accept you and they know they can trust you.”

“I’m clean with them, right?”

“Yeah, sure. You ought to take advantage of this opportunity to get more involved with them.”

“I don’t think so, Tony. Thanks, but no thanks.”

Tony laughed. “Well, the door’s open. You can come and join me anytime you want.”

Frank knew then that he was finally connected to the Outfit. He had Tony and a few other guys on his side, so the relationship was solid. If he made a big score, he’d have to kick back some money to them. Other than that, he could do what he wanted and didn’t have to answer to anybody. That was good enough for Frank.

Frank Cullotta put the M&M Murders behind him and continued his life as a thief. It was, for better or worse, his chosen career. He was good at it. It afforded him a lavish lifestyle, with new cars, fancy girls, and respect on the street. And he couldn’t have held a straight job, even if he wanted to, which he didn’t.

Staying true to his habit of frequently changing his M.O., Frank started hijacking trucks. Color televisions were a hot item at the time—new on the market with high price tags. Frank told a friend who was a dispatcher at a truck terminal to keep his eyes open for loads of color TVs. The dispatcher started calling Frank about once a month to give him information on particular loads to hijack. Once he took the loaded truck, he sold it at the best price available. If the entire load was fenced at one time, the take was minimal. To earn more money, Frank gave a television set to ten legitimate people he knew, along with ten more sets on consignment to sell to their friends. After all the TVs were sold, Frank collected the money and split it with his crew. Everyone made out on the deal.

Another hijacking involved a load of Max Factor lipstick, with an estimated value of $350,000. Frank got involved when an acquaintance named Skeets contacted him. The hijacking went smoothly, but after three weeks, Frank’s crew hadn’t been paid off. Apparently, Skeets couldn’t find anyone to buy a hot load of lipstick.

Meanwhile, Frank mentioned the hijacking to Tony. “I heard about that job, but I didn’t know you were part of it,” Tony said.

“Yeah, but this fuckin’ Skeets says he hasn’t sold the load yet and we haven’t seen our money.”

“That’s true. He’s got the stuff stored where it’s safe. I’ll keep an eye on it and make sure you get the right cut,” Tony assured him.

A buyer finally came forward, but he turned out to be an undercover agent for the FBI. The feds busted Skeets and all that money went down the drain. Frank and his crew never got a dime out of it.

Frank took advantage of another situation where he had inside help to steal money from an armored truck. The father of one of his friends worked as a janitor in a garage that serviced Brinks vehicles. The father told his son how careless the Brinks drivers were with their keys, the way they left them laying around.

Frank suggested that his friend’s father grab one of the keys that fit the back door of an armored truck. Frank would get the key duplicated and return it before anyone realized it was missing.

The father came through and for the next week, Frank followed the particular truck on its route, always using a different car. Finally, the truck stopped at a big shopping mall and both guards went inside. Frank rolled up in the work car, unlocked the back door, and grabbed four bags of money. Frank’s friend and his father received 20% of the take.

The next day, the newspaper reported the missing money. The report said the driver of the truck was being investigated; the next story said it must have been an inside job. A later article said the moneybags had probably fallen out the back door of the truck.

Frank’s first armored-truck score had been a larceny from an unattended truck. His next effort was an armed robbery and he believes it was the first of its kind in Chicago.

Another thief named Peanuts approached Frank about a Brinks money-truck heist Peanuts wanted him to come in on. Frank lived in Franklin Park, close to where the robbery was taking place. In exchange for using his house, Peanuts agreed to let Frank participate in the robbery.

Peanuts explained that the robbery would take place in Norridge, a suburb adjoining Franklin Park. “We’re going to hit the truck when it stops at a church rectory to pick up the money taken in on the weekend collections. The church is located in a secluded area with very little traffic.”

Peanuts also explained the financial arrangements. “Five of us will actually pull the robbery. Two other guys won’t be involved directly, but will receive equal cuts. Because of the size of the score— a half-million dollars or more—we’ll have to make a kickback to the Outfit.”

On the day of the robbery, Frank and two others went to the rectory. When a priest answered the door, he was grabbed and tied up. He said, “Boys, please don’t do this.”

“We’re here for the armored truck, Father. We don’t mean you any harm,” Frank assured him, then gagged him and put him in another room. The intruders found the closet containing robes and other priestly clothing. One of the crew donned that garb, while another put on a Brinks uniform that had been brought along for the job.

The truck showed up. When the guard knocked on the door, the guy dressed like a priest let him in. The robbers held their guns on him while he was tied and gagged. The fake Brinks guard went out to the truck carrying a bag stuffed with clothes to make it look like it held money. He knocked on the door window, following Brinks procedure. When the driver popped open the door, he was grabbed, taken into the rectory, then tied and gagged.

Frank kept an eye on the priest and guards while the other two drove the armored truck into an adjacent cemetery to unload the money into one of the work cars that was waiting there. When they were finished, the gang took off for Frank’s place.

When they got there, the many moneybags were brought down to the basement. The task of separating the money into stacks of various denominations was an all-night job. As dawn broke, the money was put into thousand-dollar piles and secured with rubber bands. The whole room was covered with stacks of money and there was over $3,000 in loose change. The overall take was about $360,000. Frank’s cut was $50,000.

Frank was contacted one more time about doing an armoredtruck heist. He listened to the plan and found out it would require killing the guards. He never went on an armed robbery with the intent of shooting anyone, particularly an innocent person. He knew that if things went sour during a stickup, he might have to use his gun, but he would kill his victim only as a last resort. Under the circumstances, he decided to pass on the offer. He never did another armored-truck job.

Though Frank never formally joined the mob, his orbit in Chicago crossed theirs on many occasions. The Outfit sometimes needed an outside guy to resolve a problem the bosses were dealing with. It often involved intimidating or roughing someone up. But Frank clearly remembers the first time a made guy came to him wanting a person killed.