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He discussed the charges that crime commissions and politicians around the U.S. continually made. "I tell them if they want me, let me know and I'll come at my own expense. I got nothing to hide." Of the narcotic trade: "I'd rather die than sell dope." He talked of some of the impulses which big money had given him. Back in the 19205 he had revisited his birthplace in Italy and handed out stacks of lire to everyone. "What was a hundred lire—just three lousy bucks." On fishing trips to Louisiana's bayou country, he took along about $25 worth of "cheap candy," tossed it to Cajun children on the riverbanks—"I sure feel for them kids."
He was even philosophical about the publicity which had become his cross. "I'm like Coca-Cola. There are lots of drinks as good as Coca-Cola. Pepsi-Cola is a good drink. But Pepsi-Cola never got the advertising Coca-Cola got. I'm not Pepsi-Cola, I'm Coca-Cola because I got so much advertising."
But Frank Costello was a realist. He no longer mentioned the names of friends among "better people," and tried to avoid public introductions which would embarrass them. The U.S., which had drunk Frank Costello's whisky, played his slot machines and looked the other way when his money was slipped to public officials, didn't think he was a very pleasant fellow. It never would.