Updated news on the Gambino, Genovese, Bonanno, Lucchese, and Colombo Organized Crime Families of New York City.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Probation for former trader presumed dead nearly 30 years

The former Chicago commodities trader who disappeared from his Highland Park home 32 years ago and was presumed dead was given up to three years probation for fraud and ordered to pay $90,054 in restitution, officials said.
Arthur Gerald Jones was formally sentenced in a Las Vegas courtroom Tuesday morning after pleading guilty last year to one count of fraud stemming from his attempt to apply for a driver’s license with a false name, said Nevada Deputy Atty. Gen. Adam Woodrum.
Jones must also pay back $78,637 to the Social Security Administration that his family received after he was declared dead, Woodrum said. He was ordered to pay $11,417 to an Arizona man whose Social Security number he used, Woodrum said.
Defense Atty. Stephen Stein said Jones could be on probation for less than three years. Jones’ probation officer could ask the courts to end his probation after a year, he said.
“It’s a very fair sentence,” Stein said. “I have no problem with it.”
Jones, 73, was arrested July 19, according to the Nevada Department of Motor Vehicles. The Nevada state attorney general’s office had charged Jones with fraud, burglary, obtaining and using personal identifying information of another person, possession of personal identifying information to establish false status or identity, according to a criminal complaint.
The charges stem from May 19, 2008, when he allegedly went into a Department of Motor Vehicles office in Henderson, Nev., and asked to renew his driver’s license, which identified him as Joseph Richard Sandelli, officials said.
Jones has been living under the name of Sandelli and other aliases since his disappearance in 1979 and has been working in a local sports book for the past 10 years, according to Nevada officials.
Jones was married with three children and held a seat on the Chicago Board of Trade before he was reported missing from Highland Park May 11, 1979.
Authorities believed his disappearance was suspicious; some investigators believed he met with foul play because of gambling debts and “possible organized crime affiliations,” Nevada authorities said.
According to an affidavit filed in Nevada, Jones’ wife of 17 years told investigators that about six months before he disappeared he lost his job at the board of trade as a commodities trader, and had to sell off his seat to pay of gambling debts. In one instance in which he lost $30,000 betting on a basketball game, the affidavit said.
She said he also forged her name on a second mortgage application as he tried to get more cash to pay off his debts, according to the affidavit. Jones’ wife last saw him on May 11, 1979. She told a Tribune reporter in 1979 that her husband “was not himself” in the months before he disappeared, and was particularly “jittery” after the murder of his friend and fellow trader Carl Gaimari.
In an interview with an investigator with the Nevada attorney general’s office, Jones allegedly admitted his real identity and said that he, “left in 1979 without telling anyone and has to date made no contact with anyone from his past.”
According to the affidavit, Jones told investigators that he paid a friend $800 to help him establish a fake identity, and the friend provided him with an Illinois driver’s license, a social security card and an Illinois birth certificate with the name Joseph Richard Sandelli.
Jones told the investigator that he moved to Florida and lived there for about a year before moving to California. He settled in Las Vegas in 1988, where he worked for the Rampart Casino’s Sports Book.
“Suspect claims he changed his identity to get a fresh start,” the affidavit states. Using fingerprints, the investigator connected Jones to a larceny arrest in Boca Raton, Fla., in 1979, two arrests in Naples, Fla., in 1980 and another arrest in Palm Beach, Fla., that year, according to the affidavit.
He was identified as Richard Lage in those arrests, according to the affidavit. Jones, then calling himself Richard Sanders, was arrested in Santa Barbara, Calif., in October 1980. His fingerprints were connected later to arrests in Santa Barbara, Los Angeles and Westminster, Calif. He was arrested in Henderson, Nev., as Joseph Richard Sandelli in 1992.
A Lake County court declared Jones legally dead in 1986, listing his date of death as the day he disappeared.
Robert Ritacca, the Waukegan attorney who handled the death declaration, declined to comment on Jones’ arrest.
Jones’ wife and three children collected about $47,000 in Social Security benefits as a result, Nevada authorities said.
Jones was ordered held in Nevada on $20,000 bail and released on bond.


MOBBED... with customers, now, where wiseguys once hung out

JOE STANFA doesn't want you to read this.
He can't make you put down the newspaper or click on another website, but he's worried that continuing on could be bad for business, for his fresh start.
"I don't want to scare people away," Stanfa said from behind the counter at Joey Giusepp's, his new pizzeria just off the Schuylkill Expressway, in Grays Ferry.
Stanfa is perhaps the only proprietor in Philadelphia who doesn't want you to know about his pizza joint. He'd rather make you a hoagie than talk about the blood that was shed at the same address nearly 20 years ago, or the story behind the scar on his cheek.
He just doesn't want you to get the wrong idea.
It's the name. Stanfa.
A name that everyone from South Philly to Caccamo, Sicily, equates with La Cosa Nostra. A name that means 72,300 things to Google's search engine, but one above all others: John Stanfa. Joe's father.
The 71-year-old former mob boss is serving five consecutive life sentences at a high-security penitentiary near Williamsport for a 1995 federal-racketeering conviction that included murder, gambling and extortion.
John Stanfa's never getting out. He's as good as dead. But, in a way, the Sicilian-born mobster is already haunting his middle-age son in the kitchen of his restaurant at Warfield and Wharton streets, a storied corner in local mob history, just west of 34th Street.
Joe Stanfa doesn't talk about his father that way. He doesn't have to.
"All my life I've been trying to get away from that," Stanfa said during the lunch rush one day last week. "I had nothing to do with that."
"That," it was understood during this brief conversation, is his father's organized-crime activities. And getting away from it won't be easy. Not here.
Joey Giusepp's Pizzeria & Ristorante is the former Warfield Breakfast and Lunch Express, a reputed mob hangout in the early 1990s.
It's where Stanfa underboss Joseph Ciancaglini Jr. was shot five times before dawn March 2, 1993, during the mob war between Stanfa's faction and a young crew loyal to Joseph "Skinny Joey" Merlino, then a brash 31-year-old. The FBI's surveillance camera, mounted on a pole outside, caught footage of the hitmen entering the luncheonette. A bug planted inside recorded the whole thing - the gunshots, the screaming waitress, the men scampering out the door.
Six months later, as the Stanfa-Merlino war escalated, police were back at the Warfield Breakfast and Lunch Express investigating another attempted hit - this time directed at the mob boss himself.
John Stanfa and his son were riding in a Cadillac Seville on the morning of Aug. 31, 1993, when men in a van - with gun ports cut in the side - pulled up and opened fire on the expressway during rush hour. John Stanfa wasn't hit, but Joe, then 23, caught a bullet in his face.
Riding on the rim of a blown-out tire, the Stanfas' driver, Freddy Aldrich, exited I-76 and headed for Warfield Street, parking the car in the restaurant's garage. Joe Stanfa was rushed to the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania with a bullet lodged behind his cheekbone.
In 1996, Rosario Conti Bellocchi, a confessed Mafia hitman, testified in federal court that the Warfield Breakfast and Lunch Express had been a meeting spot for wiseguys in the early 1990s, and a place where guns and money were stored.
"They wasn't coming in to buy pizza," Bellocchi told the jury. "They were coming to meet with people in La Cosa Nostra."
Today, Stanfa is trying to launch a legitimate business in the same building, on the same block as his father's old warehouse and business, Continental Imported Food Distributors Inc.
"How's that for karma?" one law-enforcement official asked, chuckling.
Stanfa, 41, with salt-and-pepper hair having replaced the black mane he sported in the 1990s, was never implicated in his father's underworld dealings, and law-enforcement sources say that he isn't on their radar.
"The only hit over there these days is the chicken cutlets, the meatballs and the broccoli rabe," said Joe Stanfa's attorney, James Leonard. "Joe's always been 100-percent completely legitimate. Even the government rats who testified against his father said so."
So legitimate, in fact, that a coupon for a free federal tax return from H&R Block was slapped on the pizza boxes when the Daily News ordered a few pies from Stanfa last week. Ever heard of the mob getting along with the Internal Revenue Service? Didn't think so.
Stanfa, however, wouldn't agree to a sit-down interview for this article, or to have his photo taken. Joey Giusepp's has been open less than a month, and he's worried that the location's notorious history could drive away current and future customers.
Reminded that the Stanfa-Merlino war was nearly 20 years ago, Stanfa interjected. "Yeah, but I lived it," he said, his voice rising slightly, not in anger, just enough to make a point. A pockmark on his face remains from the 1993 gunshot wound.
Even if his restaurant could benefit from the local Mafia lore, Stanfa doesn't want to be a guy with that kind of place. Disarmingly polite, he's not trying to cash in on mob glamorization. He wants to do it his way.
"I'm trying to build this place up," he said.
Leonard, Stanfa's attorney, is no stranger to free publicity - he's represented Angelina Pivarnick from "Jersey Shore" and has appeared in two episodes of "The Real Housewives of New Jersey" - but he can't blame his client for wanting to put the past behind him.
"He doesn't bother anybody, and no one bothers him," Leonard said. "He's one of the hardest-working guys I've ever met, and his food is authentic Italian. Most of the recipes come straight from his mother's kitchen."
And most of his worries come from a federal penitentiary 150 miles away in the foothills of the Allegheny Mountains, from the aging mobster inside who shares his last name.
"I'm just trying to make a living," Joe Stanfa said. "I'm trying to make a new start."