into the Mafia for other reasons than being a stone killer. (It would be impossible for every made guy to have killed for such exalted status. Since the establishment of the modern American Mafia under Lucky Luciano, there have been, among all the crime families in the country, thousands of made men—far more than the total number of killings attributed to the mob, and there were many stone killers who carried out 10, 20, 30 or more hits by themselves.) A man, for example, can make it as a wise guy because he is a "producer"—that is, one who makes big bucks for the organization through some special expertise. A crime family would not dream of risking a real moneymaker committing murders.
Early in his career Sammy "the Bull" Gravano exhibited no brilliant potential and, so, was required to make his bones to demonstrate his qualifications. To such hoodlums killing is to be regarded as a badge of honor. Sammy shot a man sitting in front of him in a car. Although two companions with him panicked afterward, unable to take the tension, the Bull felt differently. As Gravano relates in Underboss, the book on his career: "I felt a surge of power. I realized that I had taken a human life, that I had the power over life and death. I was a predator. I was an animal. I was Cosa Nostra."
Wise guys have an earnest desire to train hit men. "Donnie Brasco"—undercover FBI agent Joe Pistone—related having been asked by Lefty Ruggiero, a top Bonanno hit man, it he'd ever killed anyone, explaining that it would be necessary for him to be made. Brasco lied that he had killed a few guys over arguments. Lefty was not impressed. Those kind of killings, he said, "don't count."
Ruggiero apparently did a few "pieces of work" after that but had no time to invite Brasco along. Finally, without any schooling, Brasco was assigned a contract, and the FBI was forced to end his six-year undercover operation, since a federal agent could not be permitted to take part in a homicide.
Donnie did not get to sample the fruits of such murderous endeavors as did Sammy the Bull. After his first successful murder, Gravano went before high-ranking Carmine "Junior" Persico, soon to be made head of the Colombo family. Persico wanted to know how the hit had been carried out. He was very pleased and impressed. Later a Persico underling informed the Bull that it had been "a good piece of work" and that "Junior loves you. He's real proud of you."
Mafia hits are not always as anonymous as popularly believed. In this case the Colombo-controlled area of Brooklyn knew that a crew of the family had handled some work and that Sammy was now the crew's workhorse. It became known that the family intended to have Sammy made when the Mafia books were opened for new members. That entitled him to new respect. Previously the Bull had been just another tough. Going to a club or disco the Bull had always stood in line like anyone else. Now it was different. When bouncers spotted him, he was pulled out of line and ushered inside by the proprietor. Other patrons were bounced from a prized table and Sammy was accommodated with everything on the house.
FBI-er Brasco got no such perks.
Bonventre, Cesare (1956–1984): Zip, or young Sicilian mafioso Of all the Zips, or young Sicilian mafiosi, brought into the United States by the likes of Carlo Gambino and Carmine Galante, no one was more hated or feared than Cesare Bonventre, who killed his way up to underboss of the Zips and their faction within the Colombo family. Many American mobsters viewed the Zips as imported "crazies," who were not to be trusted, Cesare least of all. Nonetheless, the Zips became the key factors in the so-called Pizza Connection, importing millions of dollars of heroin into the country.
The Colombo family boss Galante, recently released from prison, ran the operation. He wanted total control of the heroin trade in America and ultimately meant to take over all five of the New York families. For that he needed the Zips and the unquestioning loyalty of the swaggering Cesare Bonventre, at 28 one of the youngest of the weird bunch. Galante felt he could trust the Zips; he was making them rich and powerful. What more could they want?
Trusting no one else in the Mafia, Galante kept only a small group of Zips around him, with Cesare always at his side. He used the Zips for all kinds of murderous work and for handling junk deals. Then in 1979 three masked gunmen shot Galante to death in a Brooklyn restaurant. With him at the time as "bodyguards" were Cesare and his cousin Baldo Amato. Both fled after the shooting. It was clear the assassins had no interest in shooting them.
Inside both mob and law enforcement circles there was little doubt that Bonventre was in on the hit. The other crime families in New York and elsewhere had
