They were the shots heard around the underworld.
Twenty years ago today, John Gotti and a team of henchmen brazenly executed Paul “Big Paul” Castellano and his underboss Thomas Bilotti outside a Manhattan steakhouse on a holiday-packed street in the most audacious Mafia hit in modern history.
With the precision of a military pincer attack, assassins wearing Russian hats and white trench coats unleashed a fusillade of broad-daylight gunfire that rocked the Big Apple, catapulted an obscure Queens tough into “The Dapper Don” and forever changed the landscape of organized crime in ways that continue to be felt.
“Castellano was probably the number one hit of all time,” said Joseph Coffey, famed former NYPD mob hunter and state Organized Crime Task Force investigator.
“It was the pre-emptive strike of all mob hits,” said Bruce Mouw, then the head of the FBI’s Gambino Crime Family squad, recalling the Gambinos describing it as their “Night of the Holocaust.”
That’s because Castellano was not only the son-in-law of the late Carlo Gambino, whose mob family still bears his name, but the capo di tutti capi – “boss of all bosses.”
Just how sensational was the Gotti coup d’etat?
The image of the fallen Castellano sprawled beneath the open door of his Lincoln Town Car outside Sparks Steakhouse on East 46th Street filled television newscasts for days.
“There’s a new dish on the menu at Sparks,” David Letterman joked on his late-night show. “Duck!!!!”
“The murders made Gotti iconic and pushed the media into a love affair with the mob,” said the FBI’s George Gabriel, who arrested Gotti for good Dec. 11, 1990.
The stage for the historic Midtown confrontation for control of the Gambino family was set in motion months before the hit.
In Manhattan, the office of then-U.S. Attorney Rudolph Giuliani indicted the five family godfathers on the Mafia’s “Commission.”
In a separate case, the feds charged the 70-year-old Castellano, who wore conservative suits and fancied himself a well-heeled businessman rather than a gangster, with racketeering, linking his crew to 125 murders.
Meanwhile in Brooklyn, Gotti had been arrested on gambling, loan-sharking and armored-car theft charges, along with several of his closest cronies.
As head of the family, Castellano wanted to view the evidence involving Gotti pal Angelo Ruggiero, including wiretapped conversations involving drug dealing, which was forbidden by the Mafia.
Gotti, who hated Castellano, stonewalled and decided to strike first.
“It was kill or be killed,” Mouw said.
Gotti initially discussed killing “Big Paulie” outside his grand Staten Island home. The plan seemed simple, but was ruled out because of erroneous fears the FBI might be watching.
Another involved whacking him at his favorite diner, but getting past his bodyguards seemed impossible. Their best shot, they believed, was outside Sparks, a favorite haunt.
Gotti needed an ally to set up the fatal meal. Fellow captain Frank DeCicco, who also disliked Castellano, agreed.
At around 4:30 p.m., Gotti met his team in a Lower East Side park to give out assignments. Four shooters – later identified by turncoat underboss “Sammy Bull” Gravano as John Carneglia, Eddie Lino, Salvatore Scala and Vinnie Artuso – were posted outside Sparks in white trench coats and black fur hats.
In the event more firepower was needed, Anthony “The Roach” Rampino stood across the street with backups at 46th Street and Second Avenue, Gravano later testified.
At 5 p.m., Gotti with Gravano behind the wheel were at East 46th Street and Third Avenue.
Suddenly, Castellano, who had dropped off Christmas presents at his lawyer’s office on Madison Avenue, pulled alongside.
Gravano used a walkie-talkie to alert the killers. As the doomed bosses pulled to a stop on the crowded street, the shooters opened fire outside Sparks, hitting “Big Paulie” first and then taking out Bilotti from behind as he turned to see his boss being cut down.
With the smoke still in the air, Gotti and Gravano drove by inspecting the bloody carnage. Gravano told Gotti their prey “was gone.”
In seconds, the team disappeared in the chaos.
“I was shocked,” recalled Walter Mack, who was prosecuting “Big Paulie.” “It was beyond brazen while he was on trial and during Christmas time on a crowded street.”
“It took a lot of balls,” Mouw said.