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Decline of the Commission
Colombo's new celebrity status attracted attention to men who decidedly opposed public scrutiny—the bosses of the other New York families. A great deal of the scrutiny came from law-enforcement agencies. Mafia bosses, who had built careful layers of insulation around themselves—never dealing directly with button men, trusting only a few close lieutenants—found their protective covering being stripped away. Grand jury subpoenas were issued to men convinced they were safe from such summonses. The high-rolling lifestyle they enjoyed was sharply straitened by Internal Revenue Service agents, who carefully checked any discrepancies between reported income and visible spending. Most of the scrutiny was the result of a growing public clamor for a curb on Mob activity—not Joe Colombo's public posturing. But Mafia chieftains blamed him nonetheless, and at least one prominent Mafioso believed that Colombo and the league had netted him a grand jury subpoena.
Moreover the five New York families are just emerging from a decade that left their tight paramilitary structure shaken and disorganized. The bitterness of past Mafia wars still lingers, especially between Colombo and Joseph Gallo, the volatile former Profaci triggerman whose defection sparked the 1961 war. He once kept a wildcat in his basement and, for luck, a dwarf on his payroll. Released last March after serving nine years for extortion, he returned to New York with a grudge against Colombo and heretical ideas about recruiting blacks into Mafia ranks. These have made him the subject of speculation regarding the shooting.
Of the five dons in power a decade ago, only one—Carlo Gambino—retains his position today. In the four other slots, the old bosses have not been officially replaced or the men who succeeded them—including Colombo—were not considered their equals. A measure of the scorn in which Colombo was held is revealed in the wiretap transcripts of a conversation between New Jersey Boss "Sam the Plumber" DeCavalcante and his underboss, Frank Majuri:
DeCavalcante: Joe Colombo. Where's a guy like that belong in the Commission? What experience has he got?
Majuri: This is ridiculous.
The all-powerful Commission, which dominated Mob affairs across the country for decades, has likewise fallen into disarray. After the disastrous Apalachin meeting in 1957, where 58 mobsters were arrested, the Commission abandoned full-scale gatherings. For a while, its members met in twos and threes to conduct Cosa Nostra business—sometimes on Sunday morning when, they assumed, FBI agents would be in church. When these arrangements failed, the dons were left to communicate with one another from outdoor phone booths—a far cry from the grand council meetings in luxury hotels. The vacuum in leadership and logistical planning opened the way for the sole cagey survivor of the old days—Carlo Gambino, 68, head of the largest family in the U.S.
The Boss of Bosses