Did Mario Puzo have inside intel from the mob when writing The Godfather Part II?
As the gangster epic turns 50, let's deep dive the attempted murder of Frank Pentangeli
This December 12th will be the 50th anniversary of The Godfather Part II premiering in New York, so obviously this gives Senators Don’t Kill an excuse to take you on a deep dive of one scene from the film: the attempted murder of Frank Pentangeli. If you’ll recall, the drunken uncle type who, amid the lavish party at Lake Tahoe for Anthony Corleone’s First Communion, tries to teach the house band to play a tarantella from the old country. “I can’t believe out of thirty professional musicians,” Pentangeli bemoans, “there isn’t one Italian in the group here!” He suffers the indignity of hearing the clarinetist break out into “Pop Goes the Weasel.” Che peccato!
To provide context on my interest in the matter, I wrote a book about gangster Crazy Joe Gallo, who infamously got whacked at Umberto’s Clam House in Little Italy on his 43rd birthday, April 7, 1972. As we’ll find out, Joey’s tale was a big influence on Mario Puzo.
Among the colorful characters I got to meet during the research phase of my book was Charlie Bartels, a retired NYPD detective who used to surveil Gallo headquarters in Red Hook, Brooklyn. He made more than a few Godfather references, my favorite being his description of the opulent estate of a top capo in the Profaci Family that ruled Brooklyn. He said it was just like Don Corleone’s - “except with big dogs instead of tomato bushes.”
Charlie was convinced that Puzo had inside information from the mob. There were simply too many instances in the film, he claimed, that replayed events only gangsters would know. (I didn’t ask how Charlie knew of such events himself.) Justifying his theory are the multiple ties between the filmmakers and the Colombo Family, as recently depicted in The Offer, a miniseries that seems more punishing than The Godfather III.
But let’s get back to Frank Pentangeli at Lake Tahoe…
In the Corleone study, Pentangeli commences drunken samurai verbal parrying with dead sober Michael about those troublesome Rosato Brothers, who’ve been a royal pain in his ass in New York City. “The Rosatos are running crazy, taking hostages!” Taking hostages? What the hell is this old man who’s had too much wine talking about?
Allow me to tell you the true story behind Pentangeli’s gripe.
The real-life inspiration for the Rosato brothers was the Gallo brothers, small time hoods in the aforementioned Profaci Family. Larry and Joey Gallo were getting tired of Don Profaci taking a sizable cut of their extortion scores - “wetting his beak,” as GF2 puts it. (Note we’re using the industry shorthand for The Godfather II, all being professionals here.) In 1961, Larry made the reckless if bold move of dispatching the Gallo gang to drive around South Brooklyn in limos and kidnap top men in the Profaci Family, his gambit to force the Don to negotiate better terms. Perfectly sensible plan. Larry released the hostages on the promise that the Don would give the Gallos a better deal.
On August 20, 1961, Larry headed to a South Brooklyn street corner to meet Don Profaci’s bodyguard, John Scimone, who months before was one of the Gallo hostages. Scimone handed Larry a $100 bill - a C-Note - as a good faith token of the Gallos’ ongoing negotiations with Don Profaci. He suggested they go to a bar and grill on Utica Avenue in Flatbush, the Sahara Club. “Some of the boys will be there,” said Scimone.
Some of the boys indeed were at the Sahara. As Larry relaxed at the bar, a Profaci goon looped a garrote around Larry’s neck and proceeded to strangle him, an old school way of killing favored by the Mafia. He dragged Larry by the neck to the back of the bar.
Now comes an insane coincidence. A cop happened to walk into the bar. Sgt. Edward Meagher of the NYPD. “Take him,” shouted Scimone. “Not here!” shouted the bartender.
The perps left behind Larry, crumpled on the floor, and rushed out of the Sahara. An NYPD patrolman was waiting outside in the squad car. Shots were fired.
“The bastard. The dirty bastard, he gave me a C-note. He gave me a C-note,” groaned Larry Gallo as he looked up at the NYPD cops after literally coming back to life (his heart had stopped during the vicious strangulation) on the floor of the Sahara.
As the above photos illustrate, Mario Puzo lifted this true-life scene for GF2. Now comes the big question: Did Puzo learn about the incident from one of the perps? More likely he knew the story from the front pages of the Daily News and the New York Post, where the ensuing Gallo-Profaci War played out like a Yanks-Mets Subway Series.
I’m certain Puzo cribbed the dialogue - “The bastard. The dirty bastard, he gave me a C-note. He gave me a C-note” - directly from the 1963 book Revolt in the Mafia written by NYPD Inspector Raymond Martin, who desperately tried to get Larry to rat on his would-be murderers. Larry kept mum, but the incident sparked the Gallo-Profaci War.
Puzo swore he’d never met a gangster before writing The Godfather. I’m inclined to believe him. (Having written a book with a gangster, I can tell you they’re difficult creative partners.) He knew to keep his distance from the goodfellas, even though Puzo’s gambling debts mysteriously disappeared after The Godfather came out, a show of appreciation by the syndicate boys for his “faithful” depiction of their “honorable” way of life.
On that note, the Mafia caught a brief reprieve in the wake of the original film among those who bought the idea of the Corleones being misunderstood family men. A wave of “gangster chic” arose in Manhattan high society. Crazy Joe Gallo rode it and got a book deal. He befriended actor Jerry Orbach who introduced him to the fabulous set circa 1971 - Neil Simon, Ben Gazzara, Janice Rule, Joan Hackett, Buddy Greco. (You’d have known the names if you were around then.) Also in the mix was satirical novelist Bruce Jay Friedman, who kindly took me out to legendary Elaine’s restaurant on the Upper East Side after my own book got published (Joey got whacked before he could finish his).
Bruce told me a story I wish I’d heard before publication.
Having conquered the publishing world, Puzo could get a coveted table at Elaine’s. Joey was there one night hobnobbing among the literati, including Bruce, who offered to make an introduction. Puzo declined the offer to meet the infamous Crazy Joe. “That’s not smart,” he told Bruce of the phenomenon of celebrities hanging out with gangsters.
In the early morning hours of April 7, 1972, Joey invited Jerry Orbach to come for a nightcap after their evening at the Copacabana. Orbach told the press he wasn’t there when Joey got gunned down at Umberto’s Clam House in a cinematic scene worthy of The Godfather. I’m pretty sure Orbach was present, and was just trying to protect himself from mob reprisal as a murder witness. Bruce was glad to have heeded Puzo’s warning, which proved prophetic. Gangsters can be dangerous company.