Organized Crime An Offer They Can't Refuse

By RICHARD BEHAR

Omerta. The code of silence for a sacred brotherhood. Well, fuhgedaboudit. Every time you turn around lately, a member of the Mafia is turning around: testifying at a trial, wearing a bug, writing a book. Whatever life omerta had left in its blood-drained body ebbed away last week with the stunning disclosure that Salvatore (Sammy Bull) Gravano, the most trusted adviser to reputed Gambino boss John Gotti, has become the Federal Government's latest protected flipster. If juries find him believable, Gravano could obliterate the entire hierarchy of the Gambinos, New York City's largest crime family with more than 400 members and thousands of associates. "I think that in all likelihood it's over for Gotti," exclaims Robert Morgenthau, Manhattan's district attorney.

For La Cosa Nostra as a whole, Gravano's decision is the latest blow in a decade's worth of prosecutions and internal backstabbings. While some experts foresee the Mob's impending collapse, the situation may be more akin to the wave of turbulence and consolidation facing the legitimate side of U.S. industry. Four of the five New York families that dominate the national network are in such disarray that "there is talk of mergers and acquisitions," says William Doran, who runs the FBI's criminal division in New York. The fireworks may produce unusual new alliances, but Doran declares that the Mafia in America is "not even close to dying."

Even so, Mob leaders will have to contend with an increasingly disloyal work force. Gravano, 46, had been scheduled to go on trial in January, along with Gotti, on 11 counts of murder and racketeering. Instead the brash and big- necked underboss is expected to provide a wealth of secrets about the Gambino family's businesses. Gravano was the Dapper Don's "ambassador" to New York City's $10 billion-a-year construction industry and was in a position to know about the group's ties to food distribution, the garment trade and waste hauling. "Never in a million years did I dream that Sammy would turn," says ex-hit man Nicholas (the Crow) Caramandi, who is now a protected federal witness. "He and Gotti rose up together. They were very close. This is a shock to me."

Caramandi can take some of the credit for Gravano's turning canary. Caramandi's defection in 1987 helped lead in turn to the flipping of Philadelphia underboss Philip (Crazy Phil) Leonetti, who was scheduled to testify in the January trial against Gotti and Gravano. According to a five- page debriefing obtained by TIME, Leonetti told federal agents in late 1989 about the 1981 Valentine's Day murder of gangster Frank Stillitano, whose body had been found in the trunk of a rental car. Leonetti said members of the Philadelphia crime family had met with Gravano and other Gambino mobsters at Bally's Park Place Casino in Atlantic City, where they reached an agreement that the Philadelphia group would kill Stillitano as a favor to the New York faction. After the rubout, Leonetti and his pals visited Gravano at his home on Staten Island, where Gravano thanked them for a job well done, according to the debriefing. While Gravano hasn't been charged in that case, Leonetti's promised testimony, along with wiretap evidence of other crimes, may have been what sent Sammy Bull running for protection.

The Mafia groups that have been hurt the most by turncoats and prosecutions are the Colombo and Bonanno families, each with about 100 members. These groups have historically been "the weakest, most violent, most reckless and easiest to catch," and they may be looking to merge, says Joseph Coffey, a top investigator with the New York State organized crime task force. The combination would probably amount to a hostile takeover, since two Colombo factions are said to be on the brink of a major gangland war. When the Colombos aren't bickering, they're active in businesses ranging from loan- sharking to air freight and liquor distribution. Meanwhile in the Bonanno clan, reputed boss Joseph Massina, 48, is serving a 10-year sentence for racketeering. His brother-in-law is reportedly trying to keep alive the gang's main trade, nationwide drug trafficking, despite a supposed Mafia narcotics ban.

The Lucchese family (members: 125) suffered three leadership changes this year alone. One boss was jailed, while another, Alphonse D'Arco, fearing an internal assassination, has been singing to the feds. An underboss is on the lam, and a 450-lb. caporegime who survived 12 bullet wounds in a rubout attempt last summer has become a government witness. Like the Colombos, the family is now split into two factions. Before Gravano's defection last week, the Gambinos were rumored to be considering a takeover of the floundering Luccheses, whose talents include garbage hauling and stolen-car rings.

The 300-member Genovese family remains the richest, most powerful and least damaged crime group. Experts believe Vincent (Chin) Gigante is still the boss, even though last March a court found him mentally unfit to stand trial. Gigante suffered a blow in October when his talented underboss, Venero (Benny Eggs) Mangano, was convicted of extortion in the window-replacement industry. And federal racket busters have weakened the family's hold on such labor unions as the Teamsters and Longshoremen. But the Genovese gang remains a sturdy symbol of the Mafia's grip on society. As investigator Coffey puts it, "The Mob will never be finished as long as there's a dollar to be made." They'll just be talking about it more.