Authors: Gay Talese
“Did he ever say to you that he didn’t want to have any conversation about it because it would become the subject of cross-examination?”
“No, sir.”
“Nothing of that nature?”
“No, sir.”
“That’s all,” Sandler said, and then Phillips received permission to ask O’Keefe one question.
“When the matter was brought up, did Mr. Torrillo bring it up in the context of what his status was concerning traveling subsequent to the Bonanno trial in view of the fact that his bail limits were confined to the Southern District of New York and the Eastern District of New York?”
“Yes, he did, sir,” said O’Keefe.
“That’s all I have, sir,” Phillips said.
The day of sentencing for Bill Bonanno and Peter Notaro was Monday, March 9, 1970. They arrived in Judge Mansfield’s courtroom shortly before 10:00
A.M.
with their attorneys, took their places at the defense’s table, and remained seated as the clerk called out: “Government ready?”
“The government is ready for sentencing, Your Honor,” said Phillips.
“Defendant ready?”
“Defendant Bonanno is ready, Your Honor,” said Krieger.
“Defendant Notaro is ready, Your Honor,” said Robert Kasanof, a large dark-haired man who was filling in for Sandier.
“Is there anything the government wishes to say with respect to sentence before sentence is imposed?” asked Judge Mansfield.
“No, Your Honor,” said Phillips. “I am sure Your Honor has a full presentence report in this matter and the government has nothing to add to that report, Your Honor.”
“All right,” said the judge, “let me take the two defendants seriatim.” Nodding toward Bill, the judge said, “Mr. Bonanno, will you please stand.”
Bill stood, smoothing out the back of his jacket, seeming calm, unconcerned. He appeared considerably overweight, perhaps 235 pounds, and his face was round and full. His dark wavy hair, as always, was carefully combed, precisely parted.
“Is there anything that you wish to say or that you wish to have your attorney, Mr. Krieger say, or both of you want to say before sentence is imposed by the court?” asked the judge.
“No, I haven’t anything to say,” Bill answered. “Mr. Krie-ger has something.”
“Do you know of any reason whatsoever,” the judge asked, “why sentence should not be imposed at this time?”
“None that I know of, Your Honor,” said Krieger, standing. Then, after he had confirmed that the judge had denied all the postverdict motions made by the defense, Krieger said: “Your Honor, I wish that Salvatore Bonanno could appear before you today in reality facing a sentence which would be unaffected or uncolored by really a life which has been stark. I know that the pretrial applications and various relief which was afforded to the defendant during the course of this trial had disclosed a rather unhappy and unfortunate history, at least over the last ten years, Your Honor, concerning this defendant. On the one hand there has been publicity of his allegedly running a criminal empire where he is dealing in untold fortunes, and yet the government has through its investigations, both legal and illegal, found out that there were times when he could not pay his own telephone bill. The government knows that the roof over his family’s home was lost from just nonpayment, foreclosure. The government knows that he is living basically on the largesse of other members of his family.
“The government also knows, and I don’t know if this has ever turned up in a presentence report, but it cannot really be contradicted—at the time of his father’s kidnaping, alleged kidnaping, the government, in an effort to locate his father, placed IRS liens in a comparatively large amount against both the father and the son. Joe Bonanno at that time owned a piece of property in Tucson, Arizona—it was income property, it was paying him a good few thousand dollars a year in income up until that time. The government liened it, took the proceeds; and despite repeated applications to apply the proceeds to the payment of the mortgage to prevent a foreclosure, so that if the government’s lien was upheld the government could at least obtain the value of the property rather than just see the property go through foreclosure and have both the defendant and the government ousted of any benefits of the property, the government stubbornly saw to it that foreclosure was had and neither the government was paid the taxes due, nor did the defendant receive any income from that property. The property was subsequently obtained by the city of Tucson through eminent domain, and it is my understanding that the amount received by the fortunate mortgagee would have been sufficient to pay off a considerable portion, if not all, of the tax lien levied against the defendant.
“Your Honor,” Krieger said, “this is the sort of thing which has haunted him. His family—I am referring now to his wife and his four children—have paid an enormous amount just through their blood association with Salvatore Bonanno and I don’t think that the price which has been exacted from them is truly founded upon criminal activity as such. It has been founded upon reputation. Salvatore Bonanno, realistically, appears before the court as the dog who has been given a bad name and has been beaten for it.
“I do not think—and I say this most advisedly—that the problem which faces the defendant today is one necessarily of his own design and his making. In the eavesdropping logs which Your Honor permitted me to hear prior to trial, there was one statement made there by an uncle [Labruzzo] which I think best sums up the situation insofar as Salvatore Bonanno is concerned. His uncle, who is now dead, is quoted by the Federal Bureau of Investigation as saying, in substance, ‘This poor kid, Bill, he was going to college, he was making something out of himself, and they destroyed him.’
“I don’t know, Your Honor, as to whom the ‘they’ attaches, but I do know that Salvatore Bonanno is a person of intelligence and of attainment and a person whose life has literally been destroyed for one reason or the other. I don’t think that the real reason which attaches to his own self-destruction is one of criminal propensity as such.
“This credit card situation of which he stands convicted before the court—and I think that it would be most advised to say that the indictment was obtained in large measure as a result of the rejection of Salvatore Bonanno’s explanation of the circumstances which gave rise to the possession and the use of the credit card, the indictment does not speak of the type of criminal activity which demands a quarantine of the defendant from the community.
“It does not speak of the sort of activity where the public screams for protection, Your Honor,” Krieger said, his voice rising. “I think that in the vernacular the defendant stands before you convicted of having committed a white-collar crime and, having been convicted of a white-collar crime, Your Honor, I most respectfully state to the court—and I suggest to the court that he should be sentenced—in conformity with people who have been convicted of white-collar crimes, and not being sentenced on the basis of his being Salvatore Bonanno.”
The judge interrupted, saying, “Let me check a few facts that are in this presentence report prepared by the Probation Department.” Turning to Bill, the judge said, “Mr. Bonanno, this report shows that you are thirty-seven years old, is that right?”
“Yes, sir,” Bill said.
“And that you have had three years of college—I think it was Tucson University or the University of Arizona?”
“That is correct,” Bill said.
“Now it also shows a prior record,” the judge said. “First, a three-year suspended sentence in January of ’62, and restitution, jury fees totaling $2,248 on a charge of bad checks, I guess insufficient funds on checks.”
“One check, Your Honor,” Bill said.
“One check?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It also shows,” Judge Mansfield went on, “upon your refusal to testify as to the disappearance of your father here in the Southern District of New York, you were held in civil contempt for a period of from March 2 to June 8, 1965, and that you later testified and were released.”
“That is correct, Your Honor,” said Krieger.
“It also shows,” the judge said, scanning the document, “that in November—the end of November of 1966, in Montreal, Canada, you were picked up in a car charged with driving without registration, and that there were two cars—in one of the other cars were Louis Greco, Vito De Filippo, and [Peter] Magaddino, and in the other car were Carl Simari, Peter Notaro, and Pat De Filippo, and that revolvers were found in Simari’s car and that Notaro and the others pleaded guilty to possession of weapons and were sentenced to two days and deported, and you were ordered deported on December 1, 1966.”
“That is not quite correct, Your Honor,” said Bill.
“In what respect then is it inaccurate?”
“In the matter of the detention—my detention—I was picked up in a restaurant and that is all I know about it. After that I pleaded in the court there in Montreal for failing to have a valid registration card, which was in the glove compartment of the car, but in order to facilitate the deportation I agreed to plead guilty so that we could facilitate the deportation.”
“The next charge,” the judge continued, without commenting on Bill’s response, “is that on September 21, 1968, you took a rifle out of the trunk of an automobile, loaded it, and pointed it at a police officer who apparently had been following you. This apparently was done on more than one occasion and you were with Peter Notaro and one Tony Mustakas at the time. You were charged with possession of a deadly weapon with an attempt to assault and were fined $150.”
“That is a rather odd one, Your Honor,” Krieger interjected, “because the defendant was tried in absentia on a misdemeanor and it is impossible to really explain the legal circumstances behind that, but certainly if anyone points a rifle at a police officer he is going to be fined more than $150—that is, if the court so believes it.”
“Well,” the judge said, skeptically, “I don’t know what happens down in Arizona when you do that. Maybe you don’t get as stiff punishment as you would in some other urban communities. Is there any basic dispute about the substance of the facts and the fine?”
“No,” Krieger said, “the fine is correct, Your Honor. The defendant has always denied doing that. The issue as to whether it was done was, as far as this defendant is concerned, an absolute falsehood.”
“All right,” the judge said, looking down at the document again, “there is also a statement here to the effect that in 1968 when you went to Arizona, using the credit card that is the subject of the present prosecution, you rented a car in New York, reregistered the car in Arizona, after it was repainted, new plates and new ignition were put into the automobile. You then stopped paying the rental bills, disposed of the car, rented another car, and never paid the bills on that car.”
“That is not true, Your Honor,” Bill said quickly. Then, amending his statement, said, “Part of it is not true.”
“Well, what part is not true?”
“The automobile that was leased here in New York was leased by the company that I was associated with,” Bill said. “I drove it to Arizona and the car was never repainted, the keys were never changed on it, and I was advised in Arizona that you could interstate the car. By that I mean the the state of Arizona would allow you to have Arizona plates. In fact, they preferred that you have Arizona plates, and that is all that was done. The bills were being paid from the New York office. The person who leased the car, I believe Your Honor will remember, Mr. Sam Perrone, is now deceased. That was an unfortunate accident,” Bill said, pausing. “That is all I know about the car. The leasing company also, by the way, Your Honor, was notified as to where the car was and they were also notified as to what they wanted done with the car.”
“Well,” the judge said, “before I pass sentence in the case of the defendant Bonanno, I think I will first hear from Mr. Notaro and his counsel. Let me state that in this report with respect to Mr. Bonanno there is a reference to the fact that his father is reputed to be a former Mafia chief in charge of one of the Mafia families, and I in passing sentence give no consideration whatsoever to that statement. As far as I am concerned, guilt is personal and I do not take into consideration the charges or rumors with respect to people or their parents, relatives, wives, or like.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” said Krieger.
Then focusing on Peter Notaro, who stood erect with his gray hair slicked back, Judge Mansfield asked, “Mr. Notaro, do you know of any reason why sentence should not be passed on you at this time?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Is there anything you wish to say or you wish to have your counsel—your counsel is changed, I see—Mr. Kasanof say, or both of you want to say at this time before sentence is imposed by the court?”
“I have nothing to say, Your Honor,” Notaro said.
“Mr. Kasanof?”
“If Your Honor please,” Kasanof said, “Your Honor is in a position, actually, of having a clearer picture of the trial, which I did not try, Your Honor, than I do. Mr. Notaro testified and I am quite confident that having observed him as a witness Your Honor will have come to some conclusions about him, what sort of person he is, about his capacity, about his relationship to the offense charged, his relationship to the codefendant and what relative roles, assuming, as I must at this point, that the jury’s verdict—addressing myself entirely to the question of clemency—their relative roles, their relative culpability. And if guilt is personal, and I am sure it is, Your Honor, Mr. Notaro has suffered because of things that have been said about him, things said about people who he knows.
“He now lives in Arizona. He is not employed, Your Honor. His wife is employed. She works two jobs. He has a young daughter attending the University of Arizona. His wife is required to work as a waitress at two different jobs because he has found himself virtually unemployable because of things that have been said about him.
“I think, Your Honor,” Kasanof continued, “judging him in the context of this case and having an opportunity to have seen and heard him, I would prefer then to reserve further remarks to anything that Your Honor would have to say. I would make a motion similar to that made by counsel for the codefendant that if there is any material in the probation report on which Your Honor is to rely, that it either be disclosed to counsel in camera or, following Your Honor’s practice with the codefendant, to give us an opportunity to meet it.”