For a young man growing up around the Bonanno crime family in the 1990s, the streets of Brooklyn and Queens were defined by constant violence, much of it coming from the drug trade rather than the Mafia itself. Former mob associate Frank Fiodelino, who grew up in the Ridgewood neighborhood bordering Brooklyn and later became a government witness, described the era as extremely rough. Fiodelino lived in Ridgewood, which sits on the border with Bushwick, Brooklyn. During the 1990s, he said Bushwick was a “hellhole” still gripped by the crack epidemic.
Powerful Puerto Rican, Hispanic, and Dominican drug gangs dominated the area, and violence was routine. He recalled it was not uncommon to see someone sprawled on the ground while walking to work at his brother’s coffee shop. “You had drug gangs, powerful drug gangs. They were throwing people off of roofs,” Fiodelino said.
He noted that the Hernandez gang was particularly powerful at the time, and he later served time with a member of that group when he was incarcerated. Shootings were heard constantly in the area. Despite the presence of the New York Mafia families, the Italian groups generally did not have formal relationships with these drug gangs. Fiodelino explained that connections were often made through family ties rather than organized crime.
His older brothers had married or dated women from Colombian, Dominican, and Puerto Rican backgrounds, which gave them alliances with those communities. These connections sometimes proved useful. Fiodelino said that when his group got into trouble and wanted to avoid detection by other Italian crews, they would sometimes send Colombian or Dominican associates to do their “dirty work” so it would not be traced back to them. Fiodelino noted that the Sicilian members of the Mafia had somewhat closer ties with Spanish-speaking groups because of language similarities.
Before Sicilians learned English, they often spoke Spanish in those neighborhoods. Italian Americans, by contrast, generally had more familiarity with African-American groups in areas like Harlem. The young Italian crews in the area were themselves very violent, according to Fiodelino. He grew up in what he described as an extremely violent group, and he pointed to the reputation of Vito Guzzo Jr.
, a close friend and associate who took extraordinary risks during the 1990s. Guzzo shot a captain’s son and made a move on a made member of the Mafia, actions that could have easily gotten him killed. “He took giant steps that could have got him killed any given day in the 90s. He wasn’t afraid to avenge himself,” Fiodelino said.
Guzzo Jr. ‘s father, Vito Guzzo Sr. , was a made man in the Colombo crime family who disappeared and was murdered in 1987, allegedly by mobster Vinnie Unions. Guzzo Jr.
waited until about 1992 before seeking revenge, carrying out an ambush that Fiodelino remembered clearly. According to Fiodelino, Guzzo Jr. learned the identity of his father’s killer from a mentor named Guzzo, who was dying of cancer. The mentor told him who was responsible but asked him to wait until after his death before acting.
When the mentor died, Guzzo Jr. did not wait long. The ambush took place during the wake, and the gunmen waited on a block located a few streets away from the funeral parlor. “They waited.
They knew that was like the only street to go down, and they ambushed the car. They came out with rifles and guns and just fired away,” Fiodelino said. Three people were in the car. The intended target, Unions, survived.
Another man in the car was killed. A third person also survived. Fiodelino described the aftermath of the shooting. One participant, Joe O’Kane, took the case to trial and ended up serving life in prison.
Another man received a 22-year sentence. One of the younger participants cooperated with authorities and received a deal. After the shooting, Guzzo Jr. went home, changed clothes, and attended the funeral as if nothing had happened, using the appearance as an alibi.
“This is how calculating, cold, and dangerous this guy was,” Fiodelino said. “But at the end of the day, he was my friend. ”
Fiodelino spoke warmly about his relationship with Guzzo Jr. , describing him as protective and loyal.
The two connected because of their similar backgrounds in Mafia families. Fiodelino’s uncle Cheech liked Guzzo Jr. , and the friendship deepened over shared experiences. When Fiodelino’s father died, both Guzzo Jr.
and another figure, Dino Calabro, attended the funeral. Guzzo Jr. was five years older than Fiodelino and sometimes offered warnings rather than lectures. Fiodelino recalled a conversation in a car wash shortly after he had shot someone.
Guzzo Jr. told him, “I’m crazy. People know I’m crazy, that I’m nuts. But you’re a different kind of crazy.
You do things just because of the spur of the moment. ”
Asked whether Guzzo Jr. , who is serving a long prison sentence, might return to the life after his release, Fiodelino declined to speculate. “I don’t want to jinx him.
I’m just going to say I hope not, because I really actually like him. ” He added, “I didn’t tell on him. ”
Fiodelino also offered thoughts on other figures from the era, including John A. Gotti, the son of Gambino boss John Gotti.
He noted that John Jr. and his friends essentially got away with murder because of who his father was. “If your father’s John Gotti, you get away with a lot of stuff,” he said. He also mentioned James Burke, the late Lucchese associate portrayed in Goodfellas, Carmine Agnello, and capable kids from the Woodhaven area.
Looking back on the decade, Fiodelino summed it up simply: “The 90s was a very rough decade. “