The Weekly Standard August 31, 1998Correction Appended
Copyright 1998 The Weekly Standard
The Weekly Standard
A CORRUPT UNION
AND THE MOB
By Eugene H. Methvin;
Eugene H. Methvin, a Washington-based Reader's Digest contributing
editor, was a member of the 1983-'86 President's Commission on Organized
Crime and directed its investigation into labor-management racketeering.
On July 24, 1996, in the historic mahogany-paneled hearing room where
grim-faced congressmen once considered the impeachment of President
Nixon, chairman Bill McCollum of the House Crime Subcommittee gaveled
for order. "There will be no photographs permitted of this witness," the
Florida Republican instructed. A hood over his head, 50-year-old Ronald
M. Fino was led to the witness chair, a screen protecting him from
For 15 years, Fino was business manager of the Laborers' International
Union of North America Local 210 in Buffalo, N.Y., and for eight years,
one of the union's national officials. "During this time, I witnessed
the gripping control of the union and its membership by La Cosa Nostra,
and the defilement of its workers' dues and benefit funds," he
testified. For all those years, Fino was also an undercover informant
for the FBI. In more than 4,000 meetings with FBI agents, he detailed
the mob's secret "shadow government" within the union, and how it
reached into the Laborers' Washington headquarters just two blocks from
the White House.
Fino's testimony struck at the heart of an illicit alliance in which a
Mafia-dominated union provided multimillion-dollar campaign
contributions and Justice Department racket-busters were shackled. The
House subcommittee had confidential information that federal prosecutors
had been thwarted in their plan to take over and clean up the union. But
subcommittee Democrats blocked subpoenas to compel testimony from
witnesses who might have revealed the fix. Instead they heaped ridicule
on the witness. "Mr. Fino, do you believe space aliens are linked to the
mob?" mocked New York's Charles Schumer.
It's not hard to grasp why Democratic congressmen wanted to undercut
Fino's testimony. The Laborers, under president Arthur A. Coia, had
managed to snuggle up embarrassingly closely to the Clinton
administration. Even before Bill Clinton took office, the Laborers made
a $ 100,000 loan to his inaugural committee. Over the next four years,
the union and its political action committee gave various Democratic
groups and candidates $ 4.8 million. Harold Ickes, Clinton's first-term
deputy chief of staff, was a New York labor lawyer whose clients
included the Laborers, its "education trust fund," and its New York-New
Jersey political action committee.
Coia was a regular White House visitor. He was invited to a state dinner
for the Japanese emperor, to join the president in greeting the pope in
Denver, and to fly with Clinton on Air Force One to Rhode Island and
Haiti. The House Crime Subcommittee documented more than 120 contacts in
three years between Coia and the Clinton White House, including cash
contributions, personal letters, and social-political invitations.
The most important, for Coia, was a meeting in the Oval Office with
President Clinton and Ickes on October 21, 1994. The White House had
just asked the FBI for a "name check" preparatory to naming Coia to a
prestigious presidential commission. The FBI's response was stark: "Coia
is a criminal associate of the New England Patriarca organized crime
family." Moreover, the Justice Department advised that its
racket-busters were going to file a suit "within the next several weeks"
that "will accuse Coia of being a puppet of the LCN [La Cosa Nostra]."
Associate deputy attorney general David Margolis, an organized-crime
specialist, repeatedly telephoned warnings to the White House about
Nonetheless, in the Oval Office President Clinton presented Coia with a
Callaway "Divine Nine" golf club and listened to Coia's complaints about
the "low-level negative response" his union was getting to applications
for federal job-training grants. The president assigned Ickes to look
after Coia's concerns. Altogether, in the four fiscal years 1994-1997
after Clinton took office, the Laborers received $ 50.5 million in
federal grants. The day after the Oval Office meeting, Coia wrote a
check for $ 50,000 as a personal "soft money" contribution to the
Democratic National Committee. He also gave Clinton a hand-crafted golf
club bearing the presidential seal.
This, then, was the union whose penetration by the mob Ronald Fino had
come before McCollum's subcommittee, at great personal risk, to
describe. Fino had joined the Laborers when he graduated from high
school in Buffalo in 1964. His father, Joe Fino, was an ex-con and
career mobster. Buffalo's new Mafia boss recognized in the intelligent
and gregarious young Fino an excellent front man for the union. Fino was
made a salaried agent for the 3,000-member Local 210, a mob fiefdom, and
in 1974 was elected business manager. Increasingly disillusioned with
the mob, Joe Fino persuaded his Buffalo gang bosses to "keep Ronnie
clean" so he could ascend the union's national political ladder and
position himself to bring greater power and riches to the Buffalo mob.
And so he did. As the trusted son of a widely-known mafioso, Fino rose
rapidly in the Laborers. On trips to Washington, New York, and Chicago,
he was tutored by national and regional officers about the union's
shadow mob government. "Telephones have cancer," he was instructed. All
important business was to be conducted face to face. Fino was given the
identities of "our people" in the union, told which Mafia families
controlled them, and warned which union officials to avoid.
The union's No. 2 man was Arthur E. Coia, father of the current
president and boyhood chum and minion of New England Mafia boss Raymond
L. S. Patriarca. Coia senior became Ron Fino's mentor. An FBI bug in
Patriarca's Providence, R.I., headquarters over-heard Coia meddling in
everything from union elections to decisions on who got kickbacks on
coffee machines. His operating philosophy, recorded on FBI tape, was
succinct: "Hit them, break their legs to get things your way."
Coia served as chairman of the trustees of the Laborers'
multimillion-dollar job-training fund. In 1980, he promoted Fino to the
board, explaining that the fund was to be used to provide jobs for
gangsters and associates. Coia began to take Fino along on nationwide
travels to inspect training sites -- and to deliver "messages" to the
union's mob operatives.
Fino was no innocent. When he was a child, his mother had told him that
his father was "away in the Army." But when they visited Daddy, he
realized the "army base" was actually Attica state prison. And his Uncle
Nick was there too. His father and uncle were both "made" mafiosi, and
killers. In high school, he saw his father's picture plastered over the
as a Mafia capo and acting boss.
But working as a Laborer while still a teenager, Fino developed a
rapport with the union's rank-and-filers -- construction workers and
manual laborers, for the most part -- and a disgust for the "wise guys"
who ran the union and gambled, loansharked, sold drugs, and loafed on
the job. Later, as Local 210's chief executive, he found that his every
move to improve his members' lot was blocked by Mafia bosses. They
compelled him to pack the union payroll with ex-cons, mobsters, and
their relatives. He had to forge records to award pensions to "friends"
who had not earned them. The adviser who invested Local 210's $ 83
million in pension and welfare funds was kicking back to the mob.
The FBI had noticed that Fino, though a "younger generation" mob
associate, did not hang out with the gangsters. At a tennis club, a
friendly agent cultivated him, and Fino began to complain about the
Mafia stranglehold on his union. "Why don't you guys do something about
these mob guys?" he asked. "We could," came the answer, "if people like
you would help."
Fino agreed, provided he would never be identified or called to testify
and nothing he reported would ever be used against his dad. After one
pow-wow with a Mafia boss, he was able to tip the Bureau that the mob
had corrupted an employee in the FBI's Cleveland office. He reported on
Mafia Commission decisions allocating control of different locals among
mob "families." He described plans to control and bilk federally funded
union training programs.
In the mid-1980s, Fino's mentor suffered a stroke. Arthur A. Coia, by
now the union's New England regional manager, succeeded his father as
the Laborers' No. 2 national officer. He and Fino began meeting dozens
of times a year, and, like his father, the younger Coia said he had to
"answer to" New England's mob boss, Raymond "Junior" Patriarca, who had
succeeded his deceased father. Coia also reported to New York's Genovese
The mob takeover of the union was so complete that Fino could no longer
stomach it. In Baltimore, Philadelphia, and Valparaiso, Ind., Laborers
officials who tried to lead rebellions were murdered. In Fino's Buffalo
local, two members, both mafiosi, were murdered because the mob
suspected them of informing for the FBI. Fino's own dad died. In
November 1987, after reading a Reader's Digest
his union's Mafia ties, Fino contacted the magazine and promised to
provide inside information. He also agreed with his FBI handlers to wear
a wire, recording his conversations with mobsters, and to testify
publicly if necessary. The Fino tapes helped the Justice Department
convict dozens of gangsters and seize control of a corrupt district
council comprising 12 locals and almost 7,000 members. Prosecutors found
that the mobsters had looted the council's seven trust funds of more
than $ 50 million, leaving members and their widows with penurious
pensions and without needed medical care.
In February 1993 the Laborers' president Angelo Fosco died. As he later
admitted in sworn testimony, Arthur Coia
had flown to Chicago
and received the blessing of the Chicago mob for his elevation to
succeed his father in the union's No. 2 job. According to a Justice
Department memo urging his removal from office, Coia recognized "that by
receiving mob approval to get his job, he too was a product of [mob]
control. The [mob] has controlled the upper levels of the union so that
graft and corruption can continue unabated at the local and district
While Coia settled into the high life of a Laborers' president, driving
a red Ferrari and enjoying a Florida retreat and an opulent Narragansett
Bay home in Rhode Island, Fino continued his undercover work for the
FBI. Then one day, before a high-level union meeting, Sam Cardinelli, a
Mafia soldier, announced: "Ronnie, I gotta frisk you."
"Put your f -- hands on me and I'll break 'em off," Fino answered.
"Our of respect for your father, I won't do it," Cardinelli responded --
and Fino's concealed recorder captured the encounter.
Fearing that his cover had been blown, Fino went to Danny Domino,
another Mafia soldier and a former Local 210 officer who owed him
favors. "Something's wrong," Domino told him. "I don't know what, but
I'll find out." Days later, the gangster sent word via a relative: "They
know you've been cooperating with the Justice Department, and been doing
it for years. There's a contract on you. Danny says get out of town
Fino fled Buffalo and has been in hiding for the past nine years, much
of it as a federally protected witness. His testimony has helped convict
many union officials. Several pleaded guilty once they learned Fino had
taped their conversations.
Despite the highly publicized convictions of Laborers officials in New
York and elsewhere, Coia, like his father before him, did nothing to
disrupt Mafia control. The Justice Department appealed to him repeatedly
to place the corrupt New York council under trusteeship. Instead, Coia
spent more than $ 400,000 in union funds hiring lawyers and
investigators to dig for evidence to discredit Fino. They found little.
Arthur A. Coia today remains president of the Laborers' International
Union of North America thanks to an unprecedented bargain he struck with
the Justice Department. Two weeks after his 1994 Oval Office meeting
with Clinton and Ickes, Justice Department racket-busters delivered to
the union a draft racketeering complaint, relying heavily on Fino's
testimony. Then strange things happened -- events that are the subject
of a House Judiciary Committee investigation. The Justice Department had
a track record of winning 19 straight racketeering actions against
crooked labor unions. Its suit against the International Brotherhood of
Teamsters, for instance, produced a court-ordered trusteeship in just
nine months. Yet Justice made what many critics consider a sweetheart
deal with Coia. The union was allowed to undertake its own
house-cleaning, under Justice Department oversight. Coia hired as the
union's internal prosecutor Robert A. Luskin, the criminal defense
lawyer who arranged the unique compromise. To gather evidence, he hired
a former FBI official, and to rule on any charges Luskin pressed, he
hired a respected former U.S. attorney.
Union dissidents and federal investigators complain that the Justice
Department made a bad bargain. The union's surrogate cleanup crew has no
power to subpoena witnesses. Luskin reports to Coia instead of to a
federal judge, and has kept rank-and-file Laborers largely in the dark.
Moreover, the government cannot turn over FBI electronic surveillance or
other critical evidence of mob penetration that would be available under
a court-supervised trusteeship.
As Coia's hand-picked cleanup man, Luskin from the start seemed to drag
his feet. More than a year elapsed before he prosecuted Fino's Local 210
in Buffalo, one of the country's most notorious mob-owned locals. He
waited two-and-a-half years to seek a trusteeship over the equally
corrupt Chicago district council, whose top officers -- all of them
gangsters or mob associates -- oversaw 21 Laborers locals, 19,000 union
members, and $ 1.5 billion in health and pension funds. Indeed, Luskin
did not secure this trusteeship until February 9, 1998, two days before
the original three-year term of the Justice Department's oversight
agreement expired. Justice and the union agreed to a belated one-year
Before the Laborers' 1996 national convention, Justice asked
Northwestern University law professor Stephen B. Goldberg to research
the union's delegate-selection rules. He found them rigged "to
discourage or discriminate against dissidents." Not one member of Long
Island's Mafia-dominated Local 66, for instance, dared nominate veteran
rebel Barney Scanlon. So Scanlon, 70 years old and "not afraid to die,"
nominated himself, and in federally supervised secret balloting actually
won with a two-thirds majority.
Scanlon and other reformers proved to be a minor irritant. Coia's
convention steamroller increased members' dues 27 percent to $ 228 a
year, and eliminated their $ 1,500 death benefit. Then the convention
voted to raise Coia's salary nearly 20 percent, to $ 250,000 a year, and
to provide him with a new home in Washington. "Unconscionable!"
protested Barney Scanlon. "The guy who pulls on his boots in the morning
has to work for ten years to equal the salary you just voted."
The convention reelected the executive board to new five-year terms.
But, at Justice's insistence, rank-and-filers were asked in a referendum
if they wanted to switch to direct election when present executive-board
members' terms end in 2001. By a whopping 78 percent majority, 49,964 to
14,246, they chose to select their vice-presidents by direct one-member,
Halfway through the three-year Justice-Laborers agreement, in July 1996,
the House Crime Subcommittee summoned Paul Coffey, the Justice
Department crime-fighter who had called Coia a Mafia puppet, to explain
why Coia was still in control. "Is he a puppet today? We're not sure,"
Coffey testified. "He did what you don't normally see puppets do; he
said, 'I can kick them out, too.' He's got no choice but to get rid of
the mob. The minute he decides he won't do it, or he's slow in doing it,
he goes, too."
Today, two more years have passed. Coffey has retired, and Coia still
runs the Laborers. Ron Fino and other critics complain that Coia has
survived for nearly four years by adopting a shrewd damage-control
strategy, playing the public role of reformer while moving chiefly
against his rivals in the "shadow government" and ignoring the mob
overlords in his Northeast home base. Indeed, federal informants report
that the Genovese family is now in complete control of the union.
Last November, when the three-year oversight agreement was about to
expire and the Justice Department threatened to take over the union,
Luskin moved finally to oust Coia. The charges: Coia "knowingly
associated" with Mafia members and permitted them to influence the
union, breaching his constitutional and fiduciary duties. Coia also
"improperly accepted benefits" from a union service provider. The
union's hearing officer, though, decreed that both the charges and
hearing would be secret. Rank-and-filers are still waiting for his
Meantime, the government's oversight agreement ends next January, and
union members continue to suffer embezzlement, assaults, and other
P In Fresno, Calif., Local 294 member Linda Cannon protested unfair
hiring, fought harassment, filed internal union charges, and ran for
office. "We are battling money, corruption, and more money," she
proclaimed. She came within 16 votes of winning. The union's hearing
officer, a seasoned former federal racket-buster, found intimidation so
extreme he ordered a new election. The incumbents then wrote each
member, demanding he state whether he wanted a new election and return
the letter -- signed. "The business manager can use these letters to add
to his blacklist for jobs," declared one member. Cannon lost again.
P The Chicago mob shamelessly pirated the 2,000-member Local 225 in
Desplaines, Ill. Its business manager for 10 years was a "made" mafioso,
Joey Mazza, whom Luskin forced out in 1995. Replacing him was the mob
underboss's nephew. He engaged in illegal bookmaking and charged the
union for airfare and hotel stays with a girlfriend, a union employee.
He and two other officers spent $ 33,000 for "meals" in just 10 months
last year, at which point Luskin sought a trusteeship.
P In California, San Francisco-area district-council boss Archie Thomas
draws a yearly salary of $ 150,000. He put his son Craig, a convicted
rapist, on a training-center payroll, violating a federal law forbidding
union employment of violent felons. Craig packed a .38 caliber pistol on
the job. As he rummaged for change in the cafeteria, the gun fired.
Police arrested him for being a felon in possession of a firearm and
seized illegal drugs and chemicals for manufacturing methamphetamine at
his home. He was convicted of two more felonies.
P On July 31, 1997, in Hartford, Conn., vice president Steve Manos of
Local 230 dared to question expenses at an executive-board luncheon
meeting. The business manager erupted in profanity and called in the
hulking sergeant-at-arms, who slammed the 53-year-old bantamweight Manos
against the wall, hustled him out of the restaurant, and hurled him onto
the sidewalk. A few months later, Ron Nobili, the reform-minded business
manager of Bridgeport Local 665, at a meeting of all 10 Connecticut
business managers, objected to $ 35,000 paid for billboard advertising
to an ad agency owned by another business manager's son. The other
business manager walked slowly around the conference table, flexing his
fist, and slugged Nobili. In both cases, executive-board members of the
union were present and did nothing to stop or reprimand the violent
officials. Under the 1959 Landrum-Griffin Act, these Laborers' officials
have a duty to protect each member's "right to express at meetings his
views upon any business properly before the meeting." Luskin has made no
move to call the derelict board members to account.
P Alex Corns, business manager of Daly City, Calif., Local 36, was part
of a Gideon's army of rebels determined to defy Coia's convention
combine. He opposed the dues hike, proposed salary cuts for top
officers, and demanded a full accounting for every dollar spent on the
cleanup process. For daring to protest, Corns saw his local's
jurisdiction over fire-proofing work raided by other Laborers locals in
the San Francisco Bay district council, depriving his members of jobs.
His protests to Coia were ignored. After Corns appealed to the Justice
Department, Luskin found Local 36's jurisdictional claim "beyond
dispute" and concluded the raids violated the union constitution. Only
then did Coia order an end to the retaliation.
Says Corns: "The Justice Department gave away too much. They saddled us
until 2001 with the same Executive Board dominated by members who sat
there doing nothing while the racketeers raped and plundered our
members. The full three years is up, Coia's still in office enjoying his
mansions and sports cars, he's got a $ 50,000-a-year raise, and we lose
benefits and pay higher dues. What kind of justice is that?"
The Laborers' struggle offers lessons for the entire nation. University
of Pennsylvania law professor Clyde Summers, who helped draft the
Landrum-Griffin Act's "union members" bill of rights," told Congress in
May that four decades of experience have shown a need to provide more
safeguards against labor racketeers: "To maintain an effective
democratic process in the national unions, all national, intermediate
and local officers should be by direct vote rather than through
conventions or delegates." A direct vote of members should also be
required to raise union dues, he urged. These reforms would help
rank-and-filers "maintain adequate control" and make it more difficult
to "stifle democracy and opposition groups."
Meantime, the Justice Department's effort to cleanse the Laborers Union
of the brutal shadow government Ron Fino so courageously exposed drags
on. A recent issue of Hard Hat Construction Magazine
well-deserved tribute: "Unlike most mob informants, Fino volunteered. He
was not trying to turn in mob associates in exchange for a lighter
prison sentence, and he was not trying to get rich. He tried to do the
right thing, and he has paid the price. He lost his good [union] job, he
lost his family, and the Buffalo Cosa Nostra put a price on his head. He
lives on the run, while many of the mobsters he incriminated are still
leading the plush life."
September 7, 1998
last week's article on the Laborers' International union, "A Corrupt
Union and the Mob," mistakenly attributed a quotation to Arthur E. Coia,
father of the union's current president. It was not Coia but rather his
pal, New England mafia boss Raymond L.S. Patriarca, who was overheard by
the FBI meddling in union elections and espousing the operating
philosophy, "Hit them, break their legs to get things your way."