Reading through that 170-page indictment aimed primarily at the Gambino crime family in New York the other day, it was hard not to feel a twinge of nostalgia.
Among the 62 wiseguys and wannabes named were such luminaries as John "Johnny Red Rose" Pisano, Thomas "Tommy Sneakers" Cacciopoli, John "Jackie the Nose" D'Amico, and the deliciously named Anthony "Buckwheat" Giammarino.
Now, perhaps there is some loanshark in Cleveland called "Stymie," but I'm guessing Giammarino is the only made guy in America named after a black kid on "The Little Rascals."
Despite this talk of the Red Sox having exorcised the demon of inferiority complex when it comes to all things New York, my first reaction to the indictment was: Why we no have?
There hasn't been a roundup of mafiosi by the feds around here in years - and don't hold your breath waiting for one.
The difference between New York and Boston is not simply one of scale: that New York, as home to the five biggest crime families, is a major-league wiseguy town while Boston is not. There are still more than a few made guys around here extorting bookies, running drugs, whatever. Still, federal prosecutors are loath to bring another era-spanning racketeering case against the remnants of Boston's mob not merely because there are so few wiseguys left but because doing so would inevitably mean revisiting the legacy of corruption within law enforcement, especially Boston's FBI office.
To suggest, as the Department of Justice does, that it began and ended with a few rogue agents involved in the mishandling of James "Whitey" Bulger is simplistic. So, while the good guys in New York are still chasing real live wiseguys, we're chasing ghosts, namely Bulger, who may or may not be alive and is most definitely not where the FBI has been or has not been looking for him.
Taking advantage of the federal racketeering act, prosecutors were able to charge the New York wiseguys with crimes that stretch to 1976. Detailing in court the way people around here were getting framed, used, and excused going back to 1986, let alone 1976, would be a defense attorney's dream.
"As the FBI approaches its 100-year anniversary, we remember that our very beginnings were rooted in fighting gangsterism," FBI Deputy Director John Pistole said in New York. "We face other daunting challenges today, but our commitment to battling organized crime has never wavered."
Could Pistole come here and make that same speech? Actually, let me rephrase the question: Could Pistole come here, make that same speech, and be believed?
If federal prosecutors here were to prepare an indictment similar in scope and historic reach to the one in New York, some of those indicted would have been working for the FBI or enlisted as government witnesses over the last decade to clean up the mess created by corrupt agents. Some of them will be in Miami in June, ready to testify for the government when Bulger's old FBI handler, John Connolly, goes on trial for allegedly helping Bulger's guys murder people.
The greatest single act of government aggression against the Mafia around here was the creation of the Massachusetts Lottery. It muscled out the mob's bread and butter, the daily number, essentially leaving the gangsters with sports betting. The federal prosecutions of the 1980s took out some big shots, but the chances of seeing another big Mafia trial here are, unlike Carmen DiNunzio, the alleged local Mafia leader, slim.
DiNunzio faces state charges for extortion and sports bookmaking, which might land him maybe five years, instead of a federal rap that would be effectively a life sentence. As for DiNunzio's supposed nickname, "The Big Cheese," he insists nobody calls him that, that it's an invention of the cops and the newspapers because he runs a cheese shop in the North End.
We have been reduced to bookmaking cases and made-up wiseguy nicknames.
What would Buckwheat say?
Kevin Cullen is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at cullen@globe.com.
