Born to Steal: When the Mafia Hit Wall Street by Gary R. Weiss Page B
Authors: Gary R. Weiss
Tags: General, Biography & Autobiography, Mafia, True Crime, Biography, New York, New York (State), Business & Economics, Business, Murder, Criminals & Outlaws, Serial Killers, organized crime, Investments & Securities, Corporate & Business History, Mafia - New York (State) - New York, Wall Street, Securities Fraud, Stockbrokers, Stockbrokers - New York (State) - New York, Wall Street (New York; N.Y.), Securities Industry, BUS000000, Securities fraud - New York (State) - New York, Pasciuto; Louis
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weren’t, because by now stock certificates
were being phased out. So the investors didn’t even have nice stock certificates to use as wallpaper, as in the old vaudeville
routine.
Louis wanted rips. He wasn’t getting them. Roy wouldn’t let him have his own client book. He wouldn’t let him become a broker.
That was going to have to change, and fast. Louis was getting serious with Stefanie, and he knew how much women cost. He was
prepared to pay.
The summer of 1993 was hot, but it wasn’t hot enough—not for Louis it wasn’t. People were making money all around him at Hanover.
Big money. And he wasn’t getting any of it.
When Louis started at Hanover, the best brokers were making about $100,000 a month and it seemed great at the time. But that
was just the beginning. The payouts went up and up: $200,000, $300,000. Half a million. And up. Louis was so frustrated, seeing
other guys make money, that he quietly seethed.
But still, he was making good money for a teenager who had just dropped out of community college. Fifteen hundred a week,
on average, meant that he and Stefanie could go out to nicer restaurants. He could afford cabs. Cabs were awesome. He never
took a cab in Staten Island. But after a few months at Hanover he could afford to take a cab from the ferry to 88 Pine, even
though it was only a five-minute walk away. Some people might call that a nice, brisk walk in the morning. But Louis didn’t
want to take a nice, brisk walk when hundreds of people were having the same nice, brisk walk off the ferry, crowding together,
smelling in the morning like perfume and Right Guard and smelling at night like sweat and ass. The ferry stank, a piss and
gasoline smell, and the bay smelled from dead fish and God knows what.
Louis hated bad smells and he hated crowds and he hated subways. At night he started taking a car service back home. It cost
him fifty bucks a night. He didn’t care. He could afford it.
At Hanover he could order cigarettes from downstairs. Condoms if he wanted them. A guy came by and shined the brokers’ shoes,
maybe the same guy who came to the investment banks and shined the Yalies’ shoes. A shoe is a shoe. Money is money.
To get money, he would have to become a broker.
As he worked at Hanover he saw Chris become famous in the chop house world as half of the team of “Chris and Rocco”—the other
half being Rocco Basile. So why shouldn’t there be a Louis and—whoever? A “Louis and Benny,” maybe?
Benny Salmonese would be a great partner. They had talked about teaming up. It was a bullshit talk, the way guys yammer away
when they’ve had a couple of beers. But it made sense. Benny was no scrub—he worked late too. And Benny’s strengths offset
Louis’s weaknesses, and vice versa. Benny was a few years older, a smooth talker, a deal-maker, a conciliator. Louis was still
a teenager, rough around the edges as No. 3 sandpaper—and he didn’t have a broker license. Louis took the NASD test for the
first time when he was at Hanover. He didn’t study. He got a 40.
License, bullshit. Why shouldn’t he make money? Why shouldn’t he have a client book? He could get clients. It was only fair.
Benny had a license. Perfect. They could both use it. They could both be Benny.
That was the plan. Now they had to execute it. They
had
to execute it.
Benny went to a little brokerage called Robert Todd Financial Corporation in July 1993. Louis had never heard about it but
Massood Gilani, over at the NASD, sure had—just as well as he knew Hanover and just as well as he knew John Lembo, one of
the most complained-about brokers at the most-complained about brokerage. Gilani’s District Management Information System
Cause Examination Examiner Log for District 10 showed that Robert Todd was one of the little firms in Manhattan that was getting
complaints
. January 15, 1993—“unauthorized transaction.” January 20, 1993—“failure to
were being phased out. So the investors didn’t even have nice stock certificates to use as wallpaper, as in the old vaudeville
routine.
Louis wanted rips. He wasn’t getting them. Roy wouldn’t let him have his own client book. He wouldn’t let him become a broker.
That was going to have to change, and fast. Louis was getting serious with Stefanie, and he knew how much women cost. He was
prepared to pay.
The summer of 1993 was hot, but it wasn’t hot enough—not for Louis it wasn’t. People were making money all around him at Hanover.
Big money. And he wasn’t getting any of it.
When Louis started at Hanover, the best brokers were making about $100,000 a month and it seemed great at the time. But that
was just the beginning. The payouts went up and up: $200,000, $300,000. Half a million. And up. Louis was so frustrated, seeing
other guys make money, that he quietly seethed.
But still, he was making good money for a teenager who had just dropped out of community college. Fifteen hundred a week,
on average, meant that he and Stefanie could go out to nicer restaurants. He could afford cabs. Cabs were awesome. He never
took a cab in Staten Island. But after a few months at Hanover he could afford to take a cab from the ferry to 88 Pine, even
though it was only a five-minute walk away. Some people might call that a nice, brisk walk in the morning. But Louis didn’t
want to take a nice, brisk walk when hundreds of people were having the same nice, brisk walk off the ferry, crowding together,
smelling in the morning like perfume and Right Guard and smelling at night like sweat and ass. The ferry stank, a piss and
gasoline smell, and the bay smelled from dead fish and God knows what.
Louis hated bad smells and he hated crowds and he hated subways. At night he started taking a car service back home. It cost
him fifty bucks a night. He didn’t care. He could afford it.
At Hanover he could order cigarettes from downstairs. Condoms if he wanted them. A guy came by and shined the brokers’ shoes,
maybe the same guy who came to the investment banks and shined the Yalies’ shoes. A shoe is a shoe. Money is money.
To get money, he would have to become a broker.
As he worked at Hanover he saw Chris become famous in the chop house world as half of the team of “Chris and Rocco”—the other
half being Rocco Basile. So why shouldn’t there be a Louis and—whoever? A “Louis and Benny,” maybe?
Benny Salmonese would be a great partner. They had talked about teaming up. It was a bullshit talk, the way guys yammer away
when they’ve had a couple of beers. But it made sense. Benny was no scrub—he worked late too. And Benny’s strengths offset
Louis’s weaknesses, and vice versa. Benny was a few years older, a smooth talker, a deal-maker, a conciliator. Louis was still
a teenager, rough around the edges as No. 3 sandpaper—and he didn’t have a broker license. Louis took the NASD test for the
first time when he was at Hanover. He didn’t study. He got a 40.
License, bullshit. Why shouldn’t he make money? Why shouldn’t he have a client book? He could get clients. It was only fair.
Benny had a license. Perfect. They could both use it. They could both be Benny.
That was the plan. Now they had to execute it. They
had
to execute it.
Benny went to a little brokerage called Robert Todd Financial Corporation in July 1993. Louis had never heard about it but
Massood Gilani, over at the NASD, sure had—just as well as he knew Hanover and just as well as he knew John Lembo, one of
the most complained-about brokers at the most-complained about brokerage. Gilani’s District Management Information System
Cause Examination Examiner Log for District 10 showed that Robert Todd was one of the little firms in Manhattan that was getting
complaints
. January 15, 1993—“unauthorized transaction.” January 20, 1993—“failure to
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