Still The Teflon Don?

By Ed Magnuson

& The 15 FBI agents who burst into the Ravenite Social Club, a red brick Mob hangout in New York City's Little Italy, apparently surprised John Gotti. But true to his well-polished celebrity image, the alleged boss of the nation's largest and most vicious Mafia family quickly regained his composure. After he was pushed into a car in handcuffs, impeccably dressed as always (for this occasion, in a double-breasted pinstripe suit with a bright yellow scarf dangling rakishly from around his neck), the "Dapper Don" of tabloid fame grinned at reporters and dismissed his latest arrest with an airy "No problem."

Given his past record in court, Gotti had good reason for his bravado. He has beaten federal and state prosecutors in three trials since 1986, earning the tag "Teflon Don." Basking in the notoriety gained from his court battles, Gotti has become a familiar figure at New York City restaurants, where he has been known to leave $100 bills as tips and to blow kisses at fellow diners as he departs. Still, the suspected Mob boss, who was charged last week with murder, racketeering and tax evasion, just might have a problem this time.

Arrogance seems to have made Gotti careless. In two previous trials, prosecutors relied heavily on tapes made from bugs planted in the Ravenite club, his main Manhattan base. They had also recorded conversations from his neighborhood headquarters, the Bergin Hunt and Fish Club, across the East River in Queens. Although the tapes were so noisy and scratchy that jurors had great difficulty deciphering the dialogue, Gotti obviously knew that his haunts were wired. Even a public telephone in one of Gotti's favorite Little Italy restaurants, Taormina, has a sign saying, WARNING -- THIS PHONE IS BUGGED.

Nonetheless, federal prosecutors say they have new and more damaging recordings of Gotti conversations, once again from the Ravenite club building. The snooping devices were planted in an apartment above the club that was used for Mob business. Gotti, who can afford to hire the best electronic bug- detecting experts in the city, apparently considered the apartment secure. But this time, insists James Fox, FBI head in New York, the recordings are "crystal clear . . . Gotti won't be pleased when he hears them."

Like the bugged conversations, the tax-evasion charges point to a startling degree of carelessness on Gotti's part. The former head of the FBI's organized-crime office in New York, Jules Bonavolonta, had made it no secret that he considered Gotti "the No. 1 target of law enforcement." So how could the don, who officially claims to be a salesman of plumbing supplies, have neglected to file tax returns for the past five years, as the government claims?

The latest indictment is similar to the one on which Gotti won an acquittal in 1987. He is accused of heading the Gambino crime family and, as its leader, of violating the federal Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Law. But the 11 counts in the new indictment are more serious. He is accused of taking part in four Mob killings and conspiring to arrange a fifth. His organization, according to the charges, took part in illegal gambling, extortion, loan sharking, obstruction of justice and robbery. Three of Gotti's top aides, including Thomas Gambino, son of the late Carlo, the Gambino family's original "boss of bosses," were also indicted.

Of the four, Gotti alone is charged with masterminding the most sensational rubout in recent Mob history: the slaying of Paul Castellano, then head of the Gambino family, by three gunmen as Castellano left a Manhattan restaurant on Dec. 16, 1985. Gotti has long been suspected of having arranged the hit so he could take over the family. Police contend that Castellano did not trust Gotti and was grooming Thomas Bilotti, his bodyguard, as the next head of the family. (Bilotti too was killed in the ambush.) While Gotti is not accused of pulling a trigger, investigators say they have a witness who can place him near the shooting scene. The prosecutors are also expected to produce an informer, convicted Philadelphia mobster Philip Leonetti, to testify that Gotti had bragged about setting up Castellano's execution.

As Gotti prepared to spend the weekend in jail while awaiting a bail hearing, Bruce Cutler, his longtime lawyer, complained that his client was the victim of a government "vendetta." With police locking Gotti up "every 10 to 12 months," protested Cutler, he was serving a life term "on the installment plan" even though he had not been convicted. The vendetta complaint was an exaggeration. But Assistant U.S. Attorney John Gleeson, who will prosecute the case, has been working full-time for five years to get Gotti.

Actually, Gotti lost frequent clashes with local prosecutors before he rose to Mob stardom. Between 1963 and 1975 he served time for car theft, petty larceny, hijacking and attempted manslaughter. His untouchable reputation ! began in 1986, when a man who had earlier accused Gotti of assaulting and robbing him decided at the trial -- quite prudently -- that he could no longer identify his assailant.

Cutler asked the court last week if he could give Gotti a change of clothes for his next court appearance. Apparently considering the matter too trivial, the judge made no ruling. But a spare $1,500 suit was seen in the don's cell. For Gotti, having to show up in a wrinkled suit might truly be cruel and unusual punishment.

With reporting by Christine Gorman/New York