May 10 2007
Gambino Genes
You said earlier that your dad died when you were 13. What was his name?
“John.”
Did he have a nickname — “The Eliminator” or something?
“Nooo,” he shakes his head. “You’re watching The Sopranos too much. Hollywood portrays the wiseguy — they glamorize the wiseguy.”
Of course they do. That’s what we all want to see.
“You think The Sopranos is really what they do? They hang out in suits and all act like that? Real wiseguys don’t do that.”
How did your dad die?
“My dad was shot.”
Did they ever find his killers?
“Mmmm… not sure.”
What did he do for a living?
“Honest to God, I really don’t know. Didn’t you read the book? I had no idea what he did.”
So you’re not related to Carlo or Thomas or John Gotti or any of those guys?
“Listen, people who know that name, who know people who know people in New York — they basically would keep very quiet, and the people that think that they know, they’ll talk more. Listen, I’m known in California. I’m known in New York. People know who I am.”
He offers this: “[In the early '80s,] I was young and dumb and full of fun. I got involved with the wrong crowd. It cost me five years of my life in incarceration. I got in trouble under the RICO Act.”
He’s referring to the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act, a 1970 legal invention that helped federal authorities put mobsters in jail. After the law was enacted, prosecutors could make a RICO argument against people who violated any two of 32 laws such as bribery, extortion, and gambling. The law also enabled prosecutors to go after criminal enterprises, meaning they could nail the high-ranking bosses who gave orders and not just the low-level individuals who carried out crimes.
“I was 17 years of age, and my best friend got caught doing some illegal activities,” Gambino says. “He was facing a lot of time. He got pressured by the government. He decided to rat on everybody, and he ratted on me.” The individual charges, Gambino claims, included dealing in stolen property, dealing narcotics, and bookmaking. This best friend, he says, was named Henry; there’s a similar character — a rat — named Henry in the novel.
A thorough search of court records turns up no such RICO conviction for anyone named Christopher Gambino. (He says that’s because he paid $7,000 to get it expunged — unlikely, according to legal experts.)
After serving his sentence, Gambino moved to Florida, worked in sanitation, and got hurt while driving a recycling truck for the City of Deerfield Beach (all verified). It was then that he decided to write his book.
OK, but what about the years since? How did he go from making $350 a week to living in a house worth half-a-million dollars?
“I have partners in my apparel business,” he says. He also cites a 10 percent interest in a construction company in Lake Worth, a 10 percent interest in a catering company in California, and residuals from his book. He says that he’s received thousands of dollars over the years from film companies that have optioned his screenplay and that he once owned a chain of men’s consignment shops — but he can’t remember the name of them.
And what about the bodyguards? What is he so scared of?
“I’m not afraid of nobody,” he says. “When I do a fashion show, an event, or a book signing, I can’t keep my eyes on the crowd. Now, I’m not famous, but I’m infamous, and people get stupid.”
But what if his name weren’t Christopher Gambino? What if his name were… Christopher Horton?
“Huh?” Gambino asks. Court documents show that a “Christopher Joseph Horton” had his name legally changed to “Christopher Joseph Gambino” in 1988. Records also show that a Christopher Joseph Horton II had his name changed to Christopher Joseph Gambino II in 1998 — and yes, our Gambino has a son named Christopher Joseph. He gives him a shoutout on the dedication page of his book.
Gambino swears that neither he nor his son ever went by the name Horton. (He says his son now lives in Staten Island but won’t give out his contact information, though there’s a Christopher Horton/Gambino II in prison in Moore Haven, Florida.)
“Maybe it’s this other banana.” Gambino points to the website of the Florida Department of Law Enforcement that shows an outstanding warrant for another gentleman who goes by the name Christopher Gambino, also six-foot-one, with the middle initial J. But this guy has blond hair and hazel eyes, and he also goes by another interesting alias: Christopher Corleone.
There’s a heroin trafficking charge also related to a Christopher Gambino. “This fucker’s got me pissed off now,” Gambino says. “I’ll admit to something I did.” Because of his efforts to take his company public, Gambino says, “Call the SEC! I’ve had to reveal everything that I’ve done. I have never, ever in my entire life seen one fuckin’ ounce of heroin, and I don’t want to be known as a heroin dealer.” (A search of Securities and Exchange Commission filings turned up little financial information and none on Gambino’s criminal record.)
One more thing: Is he any relation to Rosario (AKA Sal or Sonny), Giuseppe (Joe), and Giovanni (John) Gambino — the brothers who, according to Capeci’s Ganglandnews, were sons of Tomasso Gambino, Carlo’s second cousin? It might make sense if John were Christopher’s dad and Sonny and Joe were his uncles…
No, Gambino says unequivocally. “Do you know how many Gambinos there are?” he asks. Well, there are 150 in the online White Pages for Florida; for New York, listings top out at 300. “There are 1,200 in the state of Florida,” Gambino asserts. “They did a survey probably about three years ago — there’s a World Book of Gambinos — in the United States. There’s 6,500.”
None of this is making much sense. If Christopher’s not a real Gambino, then why would he draw so much attention to himself?
“Listen, if I disrespected [the Gambino] name, you and I would not be talking right now,” he points out. “We would not be having this conversation.” Maybe he’d be getting cozy with a cinder block at the bottom of the Long Island Sound.
Well, then, if he is indeed a Gambino with a crime family connection, why doesn’t he explain that connection and reap the benefits of authenticity?
He says that would put him in a difficult position with his family members. And besides, there’s the law of omerta — the Mafia code of silence. “You belong to an honored society,” he says. “You keep your mouth shut, and you go to the grave with who you are.
“The less you tell people, the more mystery you are, the better it is. Real wiseguys stay quiet.”
In the past few weeks, Gambino has had his book updated, copyedited, and re-printed. He took Wittenberns’ name out of the acknowledgments page and replaced it with Travis Donald’s — even though the two have never met.
“I couldn’t plan anything like this given a million years or dollars,” Donald says. He’s lost interest in feuding with his old boss and taken Wittenberns’ picture off his website. Still, he was happy to receive his copy of My Only Son in the mail. “It was neat seeing my name on the same page as Heidi Fleiss and Frank Sinatra Jr.”
Gambino suggests that Donald now turn around and e-mail Wittenberns a copy.
“Listen,” he says, summing things up, “I’m a guy who allegedly had ties to organized crime and turned his life around.” He goes off on a heartfelt monologue about young felons who carry that tag with them for the rest of their lives, have trouble getting jobs, and end up back in jail. “I actually truly want to be a role model for these people when they do get out,” Gambino says. “I’m a convicted felon [who can show by example] that, if you put your mind to it, you can beat the system.
“People only want to know the scandals,” he laments. “‘Hide the bodies over here’ and all that stuff. I can’t understand! I’d rather tell people a good love story.”
Christopher J. Gambino hopes to publish his second novel, A Passionate Kiss, sometime this summer.
By Deirdra Funcheon - Published: May 10, 2007- http://www.browardpalmbeach.com/2007-05-10/news/gambino-genes/print
