Free This Family of Mine: What It Was Like Growing Up Gotti by Victoria Gotti Page A

unborn child were about to be thrown into the street. It was as if he was reliving his own childhood, with one significant exception:this time, he had to shoulder the responsibility—and the blame—himself. It nearly drove him mad.
    He turned to Danny Fatico and begged for work. He told Fatico about the rent that was due and the upcoming baby’s birth. He told Fatico he was desperate and willing to do anything to make some money. Fatico offered to pay the rent—but Dad refused. He was too proud.
    At my father’s insistence, Danny helped my father land a “job.” The duties were simple, not exactly legal, but simple. He was to hijack a load of goods, ladies’ dresses, from a truck delivery at JFK Airport. The heist was rudimentary, according to Fatico, and involved very little risk. He introduced my father to the other members of the “team.” Each person had an assignment, culminating with the dresses being dropped off with a local fence. Once payment for the intercepted shipment was secured, everyone would be compensated for their efforts.
    The heist went off without a hitch. My father was paid enough money to pay the back rent and two months forward. There was also enough left over to buy a secondhand crib for his new baby. To my father, it seemed almost too good to be true. Easy money for easy work.
    Or so it seemed—until two detectives showed up at the door a few days later. They had questions. He had no answers. They slapped him in handcuffs, placed him under arrest, and ushered him out of his apartment, leaving his very pregnant wife behind.

CHAPTER SEVEN
“Born to Be Wild”
    A lthough less imposing in stature than my father, and certainly lacking my dad’s inherent toughness, Uncle Angelo became a formidable mobster, largely due to his partnership with Dad. Over time the pair recruited a powerful crew, including such loyal members as my father’s two brothers, Pete and Gene, and “Willie Boy” Johnson. Friends since their early teens when they ruled the Fulton-Rockaway Boys, this group boasted an uncommon closeness, and over time wielded considerable clout. They made their bones with petty crimes: stealing cars, running numbers, and hijacking trucks filled with cigarettes, liquor, and ladies’ garments. This enabled my father and his crew to become what the elders in the Gambino Family called “good and impressionable earners,” resulting in progressivelyfavorable recognition. After Dad’s arrest for hijacking the truck full of dresses, he was sentenced to only a few months in the county jail.
    It was during this period that my father met a powerful mobster who would have a profound impact on his life: Aniello Dellacroce. Everyone—from underlings to close associates and friends—referred to him as “Neil” or “Mr. O’Neill.” He was a brash, foulmouthed, and brazen man who had his own headquarters at the Ravenite Social Club on Mulberry Street in Manhattan’s Little Italy. It was a two-story brick building, nearly windowless on the ground floor. Privacy, in Dellacroce’s world, was paramount, as my father would come to learn.
    For years Dellacroce had heard about John Gotti’s exploits; he knew of the young man’s reputation for being a good earner. Years later Dellacroce would acknowledge “keeping a close eye on Johnny Boy” as a means of recruiting him into Dellacroce’s crew. He saw something special in my father, “an innate leadership quality.” He also recognized a dark side to John Gotti—a wild and unbridled temper that couldn’t be tamed and would later serve as an asset to the up-and-coming mobster. He figured Dad would rise quickly in the ranks and urged other elders to keep tabs on the kid from Fulton and Rockaway.
    Now, with Dellacroce’s help my dad was bringing in enough dough to rent a better, two-bedroom apartment. The task of finding a suitable place was assigned to my mother. Mom looked through the classified ads and found something she deemed appropriate,