I gotta' tell you, this David
Friendland was a real jamook, an empty suit with a very big motor
mouth. He could sell life insurance to your dead grandmother, he
never shuts up. He's flamboyant. He's a lawyer for Johnny Dee, that’s
Johnny Digilo over in Jersey. Now, the Genovese have been running the
north Jersey unions since forever, and they make Johnny Dee Treasurer
of the Longshoreman’s Local 1588 in Bayonne. Johnny is a little
crazy sometimes, but he's a big earner, and between the pension skim
and the protection, not to mention the loansharking, its a cash cow
for the Genovese. This Friendland is brought in by his old man when
the kid graduates law school, back in 1961. Father and son are both
Teamster suitcases, so it seems like the perfect deal, one hand
watches the other - you know? But Friedland, first he's oobatz –
he's crazy – and then he decides to become a politician. VORRE!
Ucciderlo ma non voglio il problema
See, in 1966 Johnny Dee approves a one
'G' loan to this car wash goomba named Pereria. The vig is fifty
small a week, until Pereria pays the principal. Of course he never
pays the principal. And then a year later he borrows another 'G',
same terms. Well, when the hundred a week reaches seven “G's',
Pereria decides he's paid enough. Hearing this, Johnny Dee calls
Pereria and says to pay up or he'll come down there and chop his
fucking head off. This goomba Pereria panics and calls the cops. Now
he's really in trouble. And when four of Johnny Dee's associates
visit the Du-Rite Car wash, Pereria won't come out of the toilet. So
the boys leave him a few messages. Pereria must have got them
because, he suddenly develops amnesia in court. Case closed, right?
Wrong.
The local D.A. has a hard on for Johnny
Dee, and calls the goomba in front of a Grand Jury. Safe behind
closed doors the goomba remembers again, and Johnny Dee gets indicted
for racketeering. This is a problem. And that's where this jamook
Freidland comes in. Its 1968 by now, and Friedland is still a
suitcase for the Teamsters, but now he's also a state representative
from Hudson County and the “quintessential New Jersey politician”. Flamboyant. He approaches the goomba's suit and tells him, if Pereria doesn't
take a $6,500 cash gift from Johnny Dee and drop the whole thing, then
Johnny Dee is going to sue him, Pereria, for slander or liable or
false arrest or something. Well, the problem is not that Pereria
can't be intimidated. He signs the deal. The problem is, he has a
record of not staying intimidated. So Friedland shows the cash to
Pereria but then he puts it in his desk. He holds onto it until the
goomba suffers another memory lapse in front of the new jury, and the
charges against Johnny Dee are dropped.
Of course Friedland takes a fee for
holding the cash. And the goomba's lawyer takes his cut. By the time
the cash gets to Pereria, there's only like $2,500 left. You gotta
love suits. What Johnny Dee did was extortion. What Friedland did was
an out-of-court settlement. Anyway, the D.A. is so pissed, he brings
ethics charges against Fried land and the Jersey Supreme Court
suspends Friendland's law license for six months. He doesn't lose his
seat in the Jersey House, of course. In Jersey, “Il diavolo
protegge idioti e politici”. But Friedland is now on the Fed's
radar.
All this is ancient history, before
RICO, the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act, named
after some ancient movie gangster. Anyway, After RICO, in 1971, the feds start
prosecuting the family bosses. And knocking them off. By 1979 they
are down to smaller fish, indicting Friedland and his old man for
taking a 360 “G” kickback for setting up a $4 million loan from
their Teamster's local 701 pension fund. On Wall Street they call
that a “finders fee”, business as usual. Across the river in
Jersey, that's a RICO violation. In 1980 Friedland and his papa are
convicted and the jamook has to resign his Senate Seat. Did I mention
that he won a State Senate seat in 1978? Always, a Democrat, of
course. This is New Jersey, after all.
Well, this jamook Friedland doesn't
want to go to prison. So in 1982 he turns CW, a cooperating witness.
He wears a wire. Now this could be a problem, a connected suit with a
hard-on wearing a wire? Except everybody knows Friedland is a jamook,
and he's facing serious jail time. Nobody is going to talk to him;.
What strunz prosecutor signed that deal? So Friedland tells the feds
a long and colorful story that leads pretty much no where, while
disappearing into witness protection. And they ship him off to Miami,
new name, new girl friend, new job. Now he's working for a mortgage
company. Like nothing illegal ever happened in that business. Except
six months later the same jamook sets up another loan with local 701
Pension fund, back in Jersey. Like he thinks the feds aren't going to
be watching it anymore. Two years later he gets indicted again. And
in 1986 he gets convicted again. And this time the feds are not
interested in a deal. Friedland is going to have to do something really flamboyant to get out of this one.
So, he drowns. While scuba diving, 12
miles off Grand Bahama . And his good friend, skipper Jack Wynn,
tells the Coast Guard he saw the jamook take pain killers just before
he disappeared beneath the waves, with half an hour of air in his
tanks. Of course Wynn does not radio the Coast Guard until the next
morning. Il basterd doveva restare morto. You know what I'm saying?
The feds are suspicious and don't think Friedland can hold his breath
for long. And sure enough, a month after his demise the flamboyant
David Friedland, jamook extraordinaire, reappears healthy enough to
call his lawyer from beyond his watery grave and insist he is
innocent. Which nobody believes that anymore, not even the jamook.
It turns out his timing was really
good. Back in Jersey in April of 1988, Friedland's old boss, Johnny
Dee, beats a racketeering rap. But his people in charge of the
Teamsters local 701 are convicted. Not that the management goes
clean, but the Genevese people, like Friedland, are forced out, and
replaced by Gambino people. This is a problem for the Genevese bosses because of the loss of income, and they blame Johnny Dee. A month
later, in May, they take Johnny Dee for a ride in a Lincoln
Continental, where they put five .38 rounds into the back of his
head. It made such a mess they had to scrap the freaking car.
Meanwhile, the jamook has picked up a
hitch hiker, a smoldering brunette named Colette Golightly, who had previously dumped her cold Indiana optometrist husband for optimistic and sunny
Boca Rotan, Florida. She becomes an underwater photographer, which is
how she meets David Friedland. She now followed him from Miami, to
Bermuda, to Kenya, to Switzerland to France to Venice, Hong Kong,
Singapore, and Sri Lanka, with the cops half a step behind. And then
for a year, the jamook and Colette disappear almost completely. Clean
getaway. Almost because Friedland keeps popping up in various
countries, like a whack a mole, just long enough to access bank
accounts, before vanishing again. And then the feds get a phone call
from a string of coral atolls out in the middle of the Indian Ocean.
The cops in the Republic of the Maldive
islands had gotten curious about a flamboyant American resident named
Richard Smith Harley. He was an avid scuba diver, and had even bought
a half dozen local diving schools. He liked to have his picture taken
with his students, feeding sharks, with fish held in his teeth.
Flamboyant. He had even started a clinic on tiny Bondos Island, and
everybody there called him “Pappa”. But what peaked the Maldive
cops interest was that every couple of months Harley would get his
American passport stamped when he flew out of the Maldives. But when
he flew back a few days later, it was never stamped to show entry
into any other country. It was like he was traveling into the Twight
Zone. So the cops started comparing Harley's passport photo with the
pictures on their alert sheets. And early in December of 1988, they
found a match - David Freidland. Same jamook. A couple of days later
Frieland was arrested, and at the end of December the feds brought
him back to the states.
“Tanned and smiling”, the jamook
tells the press, “I had a good time, but I'll tell you it's good
to be back in the United States.” Apparently it was not good
because he was coming home to his wife Carol, and their daughter, but
because the smoldering Colette came back to be with him, if only on
visiting days. Awaiting sentencing the jamook announced he had
converted to Christianity, and tried to cut another deal with the
feds. But nobody was impressed anymore. That's the problem with
flamboyant. Over time the bilge tends to fill with water, until its
not so buoyant anymore It's just flam.
In 1989 the bars of the Correcitonal
Complex in Coleman, Florida finally slammed shut behind the jamook.
And they did not open again until July of 1997, when David Friedland
was released from a West Palm Beach halfway house. The jamook told a
reporter, “''I can't tell you the nights that I lay awake just
crying, because I realize the opportunity I had to do so much good,
and how I blew it.”' He never stopped selling this stuff.
He was by then about 60, and after working for a Florida advertising
firm, he retired to Boca Roton, with Colette. And he finally learned to shut up.
Maybe the final word on the jamook
belongs to Thomas Kean, who became the Republican governor of New
Jersey, thanks in part to the deals he cut with the Democrat David
Friedland. Kean described him as “He was one of the most
brilliant people I ever worked with. He just was a bit crooked.”
Just a bit, do you think? Another jamook.
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