Honor Thy Father (20 page)

J
OSEPH
B
ONANNO, SUNTANNED AND RELAXED, WEARING A
gray silk suit, a dark gray hat, white shirt and dark tie, stepped out of a car on Pearl Street and slipped into a side entrance of the federal courthouse on Foley Square. While one of his lawyers ran ahead to push the elevator button, the other lawyer remained close to Bonanno, anxious that they get into the building and into the courtroom on the third floor before being spotted by the police or the FBI. If the agents got Bonanno before he was in the custody of the courtroom, where procedure was prescribed and the law precise, there was no telling what might happen; at the very least the agents would probably take Bonanno to their uptown headquarters, would hold him as long as they could, would claim credit for his capture, and would attempt to force concessions and make other face-saving gestures to compensate for their inability to find him during their nineteen months of searching.

But none of these things seemed to concern Joseph Bonanno as he walked casually across the marble-floored corridor at 10:30
A.M.
toward the elevator, removing his horn-rimmed glasses and tucking them into the breast pocket of his jacket. Soon he would be facing news cameras and he preferred being photographed without his glasses. He was a handsome man, and he knew it; the reasons for his handsomeness were his softly expressive eyes, his arched eyebrows, the strong lines of his face—features he did not wish to have diminished by spectacles, particularly since he believed that they tended to accentuate his broken nose, a present from the police force many years ago. He had often thought of having the nose fixed but had always decided against it, unwilling to concede such a blatant admission to vanity.

Across the corridor he could see one of the lawyers, Albert Krieger—who had been hired in Maloney’s place because of Maloney’s awkward involvement with the case—standing in a phone booth trying to reach the United States Attorney, Robert M. Morgenthau. Krieger wanted to inform Morgenthau of Bonanno’s presence in the building. But Morgenthau’s line was busy. Before Krieger could get out of the phone booth, the door of the elevator containing Bonanno slammed shut; so Krieger dashed up through the back steps to Morgenthau’s office on the fourth floor to inform him that Joseph Bonanno was en route to the courtroom.

Bonanno removed his hat as he entered room 318, a large chamber with high ceilings and rows of wooden pews and with jury boxes on both sides of the high polished bar of the judge. The courtroom activity was characteristically quiet and humdrum, and in the pews sat a scattering of spectators, a few of them sleeping. Even the federal judge, Marvin E. Frankel, appeared to be listening almost listlessly to the routine cases being processed below his bench. When the judge noticed the gray-haired man in the gray silk suit walking up the center aisle toward him, he did not recognize him, and he was visibly startled a few moments later when the man, after an appropriate apology for interrupting, said, “Your Honor, I am Joseph Bonanno. I understand that the government would like to talk to me.”

Judge Frankel slowly pushed his glasses down to the bridge of his nose and peered over them.

“
You
are Joseph Bonanno?”

Suddenly the stenographer, the clerk, and others in the courtroom, hearing the name, all turned quickly toward Bonanno, then turned toward the judge, then back to Bonanno, who stood calmly holding his hat.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Bonanno said.

The judge hesitated, looked around the room. Then, pointing to an unoccupied area in the front row, he said to Bonanno, “Please be seated.” Bonanno, followed by a tall large lawyer named Robert Kasanof, turned and sat down. Soon Krieger joined them, and then Robert Morgenthau, in shirt sleeves, appeared in the courtroom to take a hard look at Bonanno. Satisfied that this was indeed the man, Morgenthau turned without comment and left the courtroom, which now was being entered by other men as word of Bonanno’s presence spread through the building. Reporters from the pressroom below came rushing up to claim front-row seats in the courtroom, and detectives and office secretaries and off-duty elevator operators came in too, and within ten minutes the courtroom was packed and everyone was waiting to see what would happen.

Fifteen minutes passed, a half hour passed. Bonanno, his lawyers, and the crowd of onlookers sat through the tedium of the other cases, wondering when the show would begin. Another fifteen minutes passed; soon it would be lunchtime, and still the government had not made its move. It was as if the government, after investing so much time, effort, and money in its worldwide search for Bonanno, did not really know what to do with him now that it had him.

Finally, at 11:40, two federal marshals walked into the courtroom and took a seat behind Bonanno, and one of them whispered to Krieger, “Albert, we have to arrest your client.”

“No problem,” Krieger said, relieved that something was finally being done. “Do you have a warrant?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” Krieger said, “where do you want us to go?”

“Downstairs,” the marshal said, meaning the detention pen on the ground floor of the building.

“Fine,” said Krieger, and with Bonanno he followed the federal marshals out of the courtroom. The spectators remained seated awaiting Bonanno’s return, noticing, too, that Robert Morgenthau, wearing a jacket this time, had now reappeared in the courtroom accompanied by his staff. Morgenthau handed Judge Frankel a sealed envelope that contained the government’s case against Joseph Bonanno. Morgenthau waited.

As Bonanno was downstairs being fingerprinted, palm-printed, and completing other paperwork associated with the arrest, two FBI agents walked into the consultation room of the detention pen, and one of them asked Krieger, “Can we talk to your client?”

“Help yourself,” Krieger said.

The agents, Robert Anderson and Ed Walsh, sat in chairs across from Bonanno and proceeded to scrutinize him, seemingly searching for some sign in his hair style, his skin coloring, or the cut of his clothes that would indicate where he had been during the last nineteen months. When one of the agents, Anderson, asked Bonanno where he had been, Bonanno did not reply. Then Anderson stood up and circled around Bonanno, picked up Bonanno’s hat and looked inside at the label hoping to find out where it had been purchased. Anderson also looked at the label of Bonanno’s jacket, the reverse side of his tie, the shoes he wore. Bonanno cooperated fully, seeming neither irritated nor worried. What the FBI agent did not know was that Joseph Bonanno was wearing exactly the same shoes, the same suit, shirt, tie, and socks that he had worn on the night of October 21, 1964, when he had disappeared on Park Avenue.

In the courtroom, after Joseph Bonanno’s return, an indictment was read charging him with obstruction of justice for willfully failing to appear before a federal grand jury investigating the five Mafia “families” in the New York area. When Judge Frankel asked how he pled to the charge, Bonanno answered firmly, “Not guilty.”

Judge Frankel then nodded toward Morgenthau, a lean soft-spoken bespectacled man who had been the United States Attorney since 1961. Morgenthau wished to read into the record a description of the defendant’s criminal past that might justify the high bail that Morgenthau sought against Bonanno.

“Joseph Bonanno was born on January 18, 1905, in Sicily, Italy,” Morgenthau began, “and he is married to Fay Bonanno, and they have three children. He has no known legitimate occupation, and…” A look of pain creased Bonanno’s face, and he turned toward Krieger, who frowned but did not interrupt Morgenthau as he continued: “He has a criminal record, which includes arrests in connection with attending a meeting in Apalachin, New York, together with major criminal figures from throughout the entire United States. He was also arrested in Tucson, Arizona, in 1956 for failing to appear before a grand jury. He was arrested in Brooklyn for two violations of the Wage and Hour Law. He was also arrested and convicted in Canada in 1964 for making a false statement to the immigration authorities in connection with an application for permanent residence in Canada. The government started to look for Joseph Bonanno in the summer of 1963 in order to serve him with a grand jury subpoena. He was not found in Arizona or in New York, and was finally located in Canada after he had filed his application for permanent residence. After his arrest and conviction in Canada he was then deported to the United States, and upon his arrival in Chicago was served with a grand jury subpoena from this District. He did appear before a grand jury in August of 1964 and was directed to reappear on October 21. According to reports from his attorney, he was allegedly kidnaped in the early hours of the morning…”

The crowded courtroom was very silent, and Bonanno listened impassively as Morgenthau went on to describe the extensive but futile efforts of the FBI and other law enforcement agencies to uncover him. Even now Morgenthau had no idea where Bonanno had been during the last nineteen months, and Bonanno, who would not have to testify against himself, did not intend to volunteer the information. It would be the government’s burden to prove at an upcoming trial that Bonanno had willfully failed to appear before the grand jury and to disprove the defense’s story that Bonanno had been kidnaped by unknown abductors.

“We believe,” Morgenthau continued, “that he is a man who has shown that he has complete disregard for the processes of the court and for the law. And we believe that at least since December 19, 1964 [the day after Bill Bonanno’s call to Maloney], he has been free and able to come into the court at any time that he wished, and he is only coming in now because it suits his own personal convenience. Under all of these circumstances, we ask for bail in the amount of $500,000.”

Bonanno’s eyebrows shot upward in a look of astonishment, the courtroom responded with a murmur, and Krieger shook his bald head in objection and removed his glasses.

“If Your Honor please,” Krieger said in a loud voice, standing, “I think that first it is incumbent upon me to correct some of the information which has been given to Mr. Morgenthau concerning the so-called criminal record of the defendant Bonanno. In the first instance, Your Honor, he has only been convicted of one crime, and I think I am misusing the word ‘crime’—offense would be more appropriate. That dealt with a violation of the Wages and Hours Act in the early forties, dealing with nonpayment of some overtime to some employees in a dress firm in which he had a one-third interest. The principals pleaded guilty and were fined $50. That is the extent of his record insofar as convictions are concerned, so I am informed.

“In regard to the Canadian situation, Your Honor, on his application for permanent residency there was a question, ‘Have you ever been convicted of a crime?’ His answer was, ‘No.’ This was the basis for a rather complicated perjury prosecution up there. The prosecution was terminated by a withdrawal of the action against him, and he was allowed to leave Canada just as any other person could. He was not deported nor was there an order of voluntary deportation entered. He was allowed to go to the airport, purchase his own ticket, and fly to Chicago.

“On his landing in Chicago he was then served with a subpoena to appear before a grand jury sitting in this District. He did appear here in response to that subpoena. As far as his occupation is concerned…”

“He did not reappear as directed, did he?” asked Judge Frankel.

“Well, Your Honor,” said Krieger, “that is one of the issues which will be litigated in the prosecution of this obstruction of justice indictment. The query immediately is posed as to whether he was under a duty to appear. The grand jury in front of which he had appeared in August had expired and the grand jury was excused. He was requested to appear before a brand-spanking-new grand jury. Query as to whether the government was perhaps remiss in not resubpoenaing him. But that is one of the legal issues which would be at the heart of a defense to this indictment.

“Now, as far as his occupation is concerned, Your Honor, it is almost disingenuous for the government to argue that he has no legitimate sources of income. The government levied against his property in December of 1964 in some astronomical figure. Those levies were promptly removed after application was made by counsel representing him in tax matters, because he has scrupulously filed accurate and detailed income tax returns over many, many, many years. The most painstaking audits conducted by Internal Revenue Service have failed to reveal any discrepancy even for a civil levy.

“He has very substantial real estate holdings in his own name and jointly with his wife in Arizona. His wife has interests in a very successful cheese company, the Bella Cheese Company. He is a man of comparative means. He is a man of legitimate income, which has been proved time and time again at least to the satisfaction of the Internal Revenue Service. Now, Your Honor, as far as bail being requested in the sum of $500,000 is concerned, that is almost a request for no bail. It is a complete disregard for one of the basic considerations which a court must face when fixing bail. Certainly the fact that the defendant has surrendered here to the court is an indication that he has returned or presented himself before the court to face whatever charges the United States Attorney chooses to bring against him.”

Judge Frankel interrupted, asking, “Mr. Maloney was his lawyer at the time of the press conference to which the United States Attorney referred?”

“That is correct, Your Honor.”

“So there was a public representation a year and a half ago that he would turn up in court.”

“Well, unfortunately, Your Honor, I think that the circumstances surrounding this most unfortunate situation between Mr. Maloney and the press and also between Mr. Maloney and Mr. Morgenthau came about, as I understand it, through misunderstandings,” Krieger said. “There is testimony before a grand jury which was adduced from the person who called Mr. Maloney. That was the son of the defendant Joseph Bonanno, Salvatore. He testified, I am informed, that he had received a phone call at a certain phone booth, and the voice was not that of his father, but the voice said, ‘Your father is all right,’ or words to that effect. Salvatore contacted Mr. Maloney and advised him of this.”