own business in New York, to remain uninvolved with the affairs of their neighbors, and this was a great asset for men in hiding. Bonanno knew that one of his father’s captains, a man named John Morale, had been hiding from federal authorities for twenty years and was still in circulation, living most of the time at his home in a neighborhood of nondescript houses in Queens. Morale came and went at odd hours, never following a predictable routine, and his family had been trained in ways that would not expose him by word or act.
Bonanno’s father once concealed himself for more than a year in Brooklyn, during the gangland discord of 1929–1930, a time when a rival boss had issued a “contract” for his death. Bill Bonanno was sure that if his father was still alive he could hide indefinitely in New York because he possessed the necessary discipline. Discipline was the main requirement. Disguises and hideaways, false identification cards, and loyal friends were important, but individual discipline was the essential factor, combining the capacity to change one’s routine, to adjust to solitude, to remain alert without panicking, to avoid the places and people that had frequently been visited in the past. When his father went into hiding in 1929, a time when he had been actively courting Fay Labruzzo, he suddenly and without explanation stopped appearing at her home. She heard nothing from him for several months and assumed that their engagement was terminated. Then one of her brothers-in-law noticed that the window shades of the building directly opposite the Labruzzo home, on Jefferson Street in Brooklyn, had been down for a long time, and later he saw the glimmer of rifle barrels poised behind the small opening at the bottom of the shades, obviously waiting for Bonanno to appear in front of the Labruzzo home.
Bill Bonanno was confident that, if he had to, he could hide in New York for a very long time. He believed that he had discipline, that he would not panic if the search parties were getting close, that he had a certain talent for elusiveness. Even now, driving at night on the New York Thruway, obeying the speed limit, he was aware of every car that followed him, the arrangements of their headlights in his rearview mirror. Whenever he passed a car he observed its body style, the license plate, tried to get a look at the driver, and his alertness intensified whenever a car behind him gained speed to pass. He tried to maintain a certain distance between himself and the others, shifting lanes or reducing speed when necessary. Since he had carefully studied the road map before the trip, as he did before every trip, he knew the exits, the detours, the possible routes of escape.
Whenever he planned to remain in a single town or certain area for a few days, he familiarized himself not only with the streets but also with the hill formations and arrangements of trees along certain roads that might temporarily obscure his car as he drove it from the view of drivers behind him. He actually charted out zones of obscurity into which he would drive when he felt he was being followed, particular places where the road dipped or curved and was joined by an alternate route. Whenever he sensed that he was being tailed in Long Island, for example, he led his possible pursuers into Garden City, where he was intimately familiar with several short curving roads that linked with other roads, and he knew several places where the roads dipped, then rose, then dipped again, stretches where his car vanished from sight for several seconds if his followers were keeping at a subtle distance. He also knew perhaps seven ways to get into and out of Garden City, and anyone who followed him into that city—whether federal agents or unfriendly amici— was almost sure to lose him.
Another reason that Bonanno had confidence in his ability to hide was that loneliness did not bother him. He had adjusted to it as a teen-ager in Arizona when he lived
Bonanno’s father once concealed himself for more than a year in Brooklyn, during the gangland discord of 1929–1930, a time when a rival boss had issued a “contract” for his death. Bill Bonanno was sure that if his father was still alive he could hide indefinitely in New York because he possessed the necessary discipline. Discipline was the main requirement. Disguises and hideaways, false identification cards, and loyal friends were important, but individual discipline was the essential factor, combining the capacity to change one’s routine, to adjust to solitude, to remain alert without panicking, to avoid the places and people that had frequently been visited in the past. When his father went into hiding in 1929, a time when he had been actively courting Fay Labruzzo, he suddenly and without explanation stopped appearing at her home. She heard nothing from him for several months and assumed that their engagement was terminated. Then one of her brothers-in-law noticed that the window shades of the building directly opposite the Labruzzo home, on Jefferson Street in Brooklyn, had been down for a long time, and later he saw the glimmer of rifle barrels poised behind the small opening at the bottom of the shades, obviously waiting for Bonanno to appear in front of the Labruzzo home.
Bill Bonanno was confident that, if he had to, he could hide in New York for a very long time. He believed that he had discipline, that he would not panic if the search parties were getting close, that he had a certain talent for elusiveness. Even now, driving at night on the New York Thruway, obeying the speed limit, he was aware of every car that followed him, the arrangements of their headlights in his rearview mirror. Whenever he passed a car he observed its body style, the license plate, tried to get a look at the driver, and his alertness intensified whenever a car behind him gained speed to pass. He tried to maintain a certain distance between himself and the others, shifting lanes or reducing speed when necessary. Since he had carefully studied the road map before the trip, as he did before every trip, he knew the exits, the detours, the possible routes of escape.
Whenever he planned to remain in a single town or certain area for a few days, he familiarized himself not only with the streets but also with the hill formations and arrangements of trees along certain roads that might temporarily obscure his car as he drove it from the view of drivers behind him. He actually charted out zones of obscurity into which he would drive when he felt he was being followed, particular places where the road dipped or curved and was joined by an alternate route. Whenever he sensed that he was being tailed in Long Island, for example, he led his possible pursuers into Garden City, where he was intimately familiar with several short curving roads that linked with other roads, and he knew several places where the roads dipped, then rose, then dipped again, stretches where his car vanished from sight for several seconds if his followers were keeping at a subtle distance. He also knew perhaps seven ways to get into and out of Garden City, and anyone who followed him into that city—whether federal agents or unfriendly amici— was almost sure to lose him.
Another reason that Bonanno had confidence in his ability to hide was that loneliness did not bother him. He had adjusted to it as a teen-ager in Arizona when he lived
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