May 10 2007
Gambino Genes
Gambino is here tonight for a boxing match called the Friday the 13th Massacre. He has come at the request of friend Jeff Gibson, the promoter. Even Gambino isn’t sure what the plan is; when he arrives and is escorted to front-row seats, Gibson informs him that he’ll be called up into the ring at some point and be joined by 25 women who have come “from all over the country” to audition as models for Gambino jeans (”The Gambino Hit Squad models”) and to vie for a part in the movie. Gambino will be asked to say a few words.
Is he prepared for that? The spotlight? Improvisational speeches? “If you mean, do I have experience with the FBI shining a spotlight in my face?” he grunts. “Yeah, I have a lot of experience with that.”
The rest of the posse looks straight out of central casting for The Sopranos. There’s Lin, a friend/security guard who describes himself as “just a big kid” who will nonetheless “rip out your heart and feed it to you” if you cross him. Friend/bodyguard Brian keeps quiet; his biceps seem to do enough talking. There’s Jay, the newly appointed chief financial officer of Gambino Holdings, short, with glasses and a scent of cigarette smoke. Jay even has a couple of minions of his own, wearing black Gambino Apparel T-shirts emblazoned with the words Soldier and Made Man. Each of these guys acts subservient to Gambino, fetching bottled water (Gambino neither drinks nor smokes) or carrying boxes as directed. In fact, when asked casual questions about himself, Jay cuts off the conversation. “This is the Chris show,” he says, “not the Jay show.”
Gambino’s only equal here, it seems, is a white-haired gentleman from Delray Beach by way of Boston — Danny Giurleo. “He’s a real wiseguy,” Gambino whispers. “I probably shouldn’t tell you that.”
“Chris is a good boy,” Giurleo says, sitting regally at ringside, legs crossed, hands in his lap. “When you’ve got a name like Gambino, people think a lot of things.”
“If you’re Italian and you have a family, you’re automatically a Mafioso,” Lordi leans over and chimes in. “It isn’t true. We just keep the ones we love very close.”
“We’re never going to tell you where the bodies are!” Giurleo laughs.
Their association is totally innocent, they say. They just get together to help with the fashion line. “Can you imagine us all sitting around the table, gluing crystals onto jeans?” Lordi asks. “We’d be there going, ‘Boy, if these were diamonds!’ It was like arts and crafts!” That sends them all into a laughing fit. “We either take you out or we take you out to eat.” More laughter.
The boxing match is getting ready to start. The lights dim; a crowd has filled the cavernous room. Gambino’s crew checks out the ring girls; it’s hard not to, since they’re sashaying across the ring in high heels, rallying the audience, their butt cheeks hanging out of spandex hot pants.
“Ah, she’s too short.”
“Gotta be at least five-nine.”
“I don’t like tattoos.”
“How fast can she work a shovel?” Ha ha ha ha! they all laugh.
Giurleo shakes his head, his eyes glued to an offending derriere. “I think that is so demeaning to women,” he says, deadpan.
Somehow the talk turns to smart girls.
“Chelsea Clinton?” Lordi says. “Ugh. You’d kidnap her? Now, if we talk about the Bush twins — I could see maybe putting them in the trunk.”
While the conversation rolls merrily on, full of double-entendres and tantalizing crime references, Gambino has been getting up and down: greeting people who wave haltingly from $100 ringside seats, joining Gibson to make seemingly important introductions. Now he’s working his thumbs furiously as he sends text messages on both his cell phone and Sidekick. Check it out — he holds up the phone. The Barbi twins, Playboy models turned animal rights activists, are texting him. He’s working with them to cross-promote their book and has befriended Shane Barbi’s husband, Ken Wahl, star of the Mafia-themed TV show Wiseguy.
Gambino also claims to be friends with Jeb Bush and says Pope Benedict blessed his marriage. In recent months, he says, he has been approached by People magazine, Maxim, Vanity Fair (”I didn’t even know what it was. They want to put me on the cover”), MTV (”They want me to do a cameo in a reality show”), and As Is (”It’s a magazine that’s all gangsters — 50 Cent and those guys. I’m going to be the first white guy on the cover.”).
