On 1 May 1977 the Observer Magazine ran a profile by Paul S Meskil of New York mafia boss Carmine Galante, who police suspected was about to become the next Capo di Tutti Capi (‘boss of all bosses’) taking over from Carlo Gambino (‘A Walk with the Godfather’).
Meskil is quick to distinguish Galante from the physical presence of Marlon Brando’s celluloid Godfather. At 67, this ‘little old man in banker’s grey’ although ‘in robust health… no longer makes nightly rounds of pubs and clubs’. But no one should be fooled. Instead of retirement, ‘this senior citizen is well on his way to becoming the world’s most powerful criminal’. He was ‘violent, vicious, and ruthless’. Minimum job requirements you would think.
Galante, of course, took precautions. ‘He never discusses business over the telephone or at home,’ says Meskil, and never writes anything down. (This brings to mind the Woody Allen line: ‘Organised crime in America takes in over $40bn a year and spends very little on office supplies.’)
Narcotics was Galante’s speciality. In 1954, he met Lucky Luciano and established the so-called French Connection, a worldwide drug network that took Turkish opium to Marseilles where it was made into heroin and then transported to the US to sell. He also dabbled in ‘gambling, loan-sharking, extortion, and business infiltration’.
Along with the prose (‘Galante runs out of cigars more often than he runs out of shadows’), Meskil has a nice line in irony (‘He walks around unarmed, without a full time bodyguard. With Uncle Sam following him he doesn’t need any more protection’). It’s no surprise to learn that in the 1950s he wrote a pulp noir, Sin Pit.
Galante, who spent nearly half of his life in prison, was assassinated two years later – it’s referred to in an episode of The Sopranos as ‘a beautiful hit’. Trusting the mafia is one thing, but Uncle Sam?
