The Quiet Don: The Untold Story of Mafia Kingpin Russell Bufalino by Matt Birkbeck
Authors: Matt Birkbeck
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in you as he would shake your hand, and it wasn’t long after his arrival in 1930 from Buffalo that he was linked to the murder of a Magaddino rival. The charges were later dropped, but Barbara remained in the region and was tasked with a variety of jobs, including contract killings. At times when he needed help, Russell Bufalino was dispatched to assist him.
Barbara eventually moved north, just over the Pennsylvania–New York border to Endicott, New York, where he opened a soft-drink distribution plant. In 1938, Russell Bufalino and his wife, Carla, moved to Pennsylvania. Bufalino’s marriage to a Sciandra, along with his blood relation to his uncle Charles Bufalino, made him the perfect choice to assist John Sciandra, who took over control of all organized crime activity from Santo Volpe, who decided to “retire” after beating back a murder charge in 1933. Russell was now firmly entrenched as his brother-in-law’s underboss.
For legitimacy purposes, Bufalino was employed as an auto mechanic at the Canada Dry bottling plant owned by Barbara, though it was nothing more than a ruse to cover his real work, which, by the end of World War II, focused on union racketeering and the garment industry.
* * *
BY 1945, THE thousands of women who worked in the Wyoming Valley’s nonunion garment manufacturing centers were earning as little as $16 per week.
With most of their coal-miner husbands returning from the war but unable to find work, the women had no choice but to submit to the demands of the garment plants, where they often labored twelve to sixteen hours per day. Little girls as young as ten years old could also be found stitching the individual pieces produced at the plants. To the bosses, it didn’t matter how old the workers were, as long as the work got done. They were modern-day sweatshops, and there were dozens throughout the region, from Scranton through Pittston to Wilkes-Barre and Hazleton. Because of the low pay and awful working conditions, the industry did little to stimulate the economic rebirth of a region still struggling with the demise of coal.
Yet throughout the Wyoming Valley, especially in and around Pittston, many of the dress factories that lined the main street were owned by Russell Bufalino.
The New York City–based garment industry relied on northeastern Pennsylvania as a source of cheap labor at a time when the industry’s major union, the International Ladies’ Garment Workers Union (ILGWU), was making headway unionizing New York’s shops. For decades, organizers with the ILGWU fought for and eventually gained a major foothold among garment workers in New York City. It wasn’t easy. Cracked skulls, broken bones, gunshot wounds and even death awaited many of the organizers from Mafiosi eager to keep their costs low and profits high.
Undeterred, the ILGWU eventually forced many of the organized crime–owned garment firms to seek cheaper labor elsewhere. And it didn’t come any cheaper, or under more control, than in northeast Pennsylvania.
The region’s close proximity to New York and the dire economy created a perfect storm of conditions. Any work was better than no work, and many of the shops, initially fueled by Magaddino money from Buffalo, were highly profitable and earned more than enough to pay the bribes required by the local police chiefs, politicians, and local and county officials, who all turned a blind eye to complaints.
With nowhere to turn, the few who would confront the industry were usually met with stiff resistance through threats, violence, bombed homes and even murder. Among those consulting Russell Bufalino were his uncle Charles and Santo Volpe, and their experiences dating back to the violence used against the mining communities served as a valuable lesson plan.
By the early 1940s, Russell had ownership stakes in at least a dozen garment businesses, including the Pennsylvania Drape and Curtain Company, Ann Lee Frocks Company and Alamo Dress
Barbara eventually moved north, just over the Pennsylvania–New York border to Endicott, New York, where he opened a soft-drink distribution plant. In 1938, Russell Bufalino and his wife, Carla, moved to Pennsylvania. Bufalino’s marriage to a Sciandra, along with his blood relation to his uncle Charles Bufalino, made him the perfect choice to assist John Sciandra, who took over control of all organized crime activity from Santo Volpe, who decided to “retire” after beating back a murder charge in 1933. Russell was now firmly entrenched as his brother-in-law’s underboss.
For legitimacy purposes, Bufalino was employed as an auto mechanic at the Canada Dry bottling plant owned by Barbara, though it was nothing more than a ruse to cover his real work, which, by the end of World War II, focused on union racketeering and the garment industry.
* * *
BY 1945, THE thousands of women who worked in the Wyoming Valley’s nonunion garment manufacturing centers were earning as little as $16 per week.
With most of their coal-miner husbands returning from the war but unable to find work, the women had no choice but to submit to the demands of the garment plants, where they often labored twelve to sixteen hours per day. Little girls as young as ten years old could also be found stitching the individual pieces produced at the plants. To the bosses, it didn’t matter how old the workers were, as long as the work got done. They were modern-day sweatshops, and there were dozens throughout the region, from Scranton through Pittston to Wilkes-Barre and Hazleton. Because of the low pay and awful working conditions, the industry did little to stimulate the economic rebirth of a region still struggling with the demise of coal.
Yet throughout the Wyoming Valley, especially in and around Pittston, many of the dress factories that lined the main street were owned by Russell Bufalino.
The New York City–based garment industry relied on northeastern Pennsylvania as a source of cheap labor at a time when the industry’s major union, the International Ladies’ Garment Workers Union (ILGWU), was making headway unionizing New York’s shops. For decades, organizers with the ILGWU fought for and eventually gained a major foothold among garment workers in New York City. It wasn’t easy. Cracked skulls, broken bones, gunshot wounds and even death awaited many of the organizers from Mafiosi eager to keep their costs low and profits high.
Undeterred, the ILGWU eventually forced many of the organized crime–owned garment firms to seek cheaper labor elsewhere. And it didn’t come any cheaper, or under more control, than in northeast Pennsylvania.
The region’s close proximity to New York and the dire economy created a perfect storm of conditions. Any work was better than no work, and many of the shops, initially fueled by Magaddino money from Buffalo, were highly profitable and earned more than enough to pay the bribes required by the local police chiefs, politicians, and local and county officials, who all turned a blind eye to complaints.
With nowhere to turn, the few who would confront the industry were usually met with stiff resistance through threats, violence, bombed homes and even murder. Among those consulting Russell Bufalino were his uncle Charles and Santo Volpe, and their experiences dating back to the violence used against the mining communities served as a valuable lesson plan.
By the early 1940s, Russell had ownership stakes in at least a dozen garment businesses, including the Pennsylvania Drape and Curtain Company, Ann Lee Frocks Company and Alamo Dress
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