Читать книгу Slaughter in the Streets. When Boston Became Boxing’s Murder Capital онлайн

30 страница из 34

“The New York Mob wouldn't touch Rip,” Forte said. “There was an incident where a New Yorker tried to take one of Rip's fighters; Rip went to New York and had a meeting with some people. That was the end of that. There was respect for Rip in that way.”

Valenti was also known to be a friend of Frankie Carbo, the former Mafia gunman who controlled much of the boxing landscape in the 1950s. For his part, Valenti played dumb. In 1982, the Globe asked him about the Mob's impact on boxing. “Organized crime has nothing to do with boxing,” he said. “What does organized crime need with boxing, anyway?” As for Carbo, Valenti shrugged. “Carbo was all right. He used to help me make matches.”

Valenti could deny that the Mob had anything to do with boxing, but when Ted Williams had trouble with Red Sox brass, he didn't consult the local Mafia boss. Consider the way Valenti and DeMarco once dealt with a problem.

Near the end of his career, DeMarco wanted to break from Valenti and manage himself. Since Phil Buccola was no longer in the city, DeMarco sought out advice from Raymond Patriarca, the ruthless crime boss who had replaced Buccola as New England's Mafia kingpin. Like characters from The Godfather, DeMarco and Valenti journeyed to Patriarca's Providence office bearing tributes—Cuban cigars, North End cannoli—and explained their cases. Patriarca, who probably had more pressing issues to consider, squinted at the pair through a cloud of Cuban cigar smoke. He politely told DeMarco to stay with Valenti for three more fights. DeMarco claimed to be happy with the edict, but it's not as if he would argue with Patriarca. It's safe to say Valenti probably benefited from his old Mob ties to get DeMarco for three more bouts. But according to Valenti, the Mob had nothing to do with boxing. (And according to DeMarco, Patriarca was just a businessman.)