Dominick Santoro: Born to Be a “Street Guy”

Dominick Santoro was a long-time Colombo Family associate in the Sonny Franzese crew, who was active in shylocking, frauds, prostitution, and race-fixing. For more information about the Sonny Franzese regime, see The Franzese Regime Leadership Chart.

Dominick L. Santoro was born on September 22, 1921. He was reportedly the oldest of three sons born to Michele Santoro and Anna Maria Eremita Mauro. His father was born in the little town of Ascoli Satriano, Foggia (Apulia), Italy, and his mother was born in the City of Benevento (Campania), Italy.

Michele and Anna Maria immigrated to the United States on a freight ship, entering Boston Harbor in Massachusetts on February 3, 1915. Thereafter, the Santoros continued their journey to New York City, where they rented a small apartment in Upper Manhattan’s East Harlem neighborhood.

Dominick Santoro

But over the next few years the family would relocate several more times. It is believed that at the time of Dominick’s birth the family was living in Canton, Ohio. And although the family relocated back to New York City when Dominick was still an infant, he’d always identify himself as having been born in the East Harlem section of Manhattan. But technically speaking, Dominick was born in the State of Ohio.

He and his brothers were raised in Manhattan. In 1935, at the age of fourteen, the family was residing in a small apartment at 2253 Second Avenue, located directly off the corner of notorious Mafia-laden East 116th Street in Harlem.

According to records, Dominick graduated high school, a rare accomplishment for children born during that era.

2253 Second Avenue, East Harlem

The Early Years

Official government records describe Dominick Santoro as standing 5 feet 9 inches tall and weighing a slim 150 pounds. He was a pleasant-looking man with smooth features, dark brown eyes, and thick jet-black hair that had turned salt-and-pepper by his mid-forties.

By at least 1940, it appears that Dominick and his family had relocated up to the Bronx. That was also the year he joined the United States Armed Forces. He enlisted in the National Guard on October 14, 1940, in Brooklyn, N.Y. On his official intake documents, Santoro’s rank was listed as Private-1st Class. He was assigned to the Field Artillery Division. On that same document, the 19-year-old Santoro listed his home address as 1559 Cruger Avenue, Bronx.

Private Dominick Santoro was sent to boot camp down south and later stationed in Alabama. Apparently, that's where he first met a young 19-year-old white girl named Evelyn Burnett, who was born in Mobile, Alabama.

Apparently, the young hoodlum was smitten with her southern charms because less than seven months later, on May 2, 1941, Dominick and Evelyn took their marriage vows in a civil court ceremony held at Anniston (Calhoun County), Alabama. On the marriage certificate, the 19-year-old Santoro listed his occupation as a nightclub operator. He also stated it was his first marriage.

But nine years later -- in 1950 -- although it’s believed that he was already separated from his young wife, Dominick (then age 29) still listed himself as a married man. That year, he boarded a cruise ship named the “IIe de France,” departing from the Port of Le Harve, France, en route back to the United States. On the passenger manifest, he listed himself as married. He also provided 1559 Cruger Avenue as his current home address. Santoro reentered New York Harbor on June 26, 1950.

Nassau County

By at least the late 1950s, Santoro was believed to have moved from New York City out to the suburbs of Long Island. From then on, he resided in various Nassau County neighborhoods for the rest of his life.

He moved to a girlfriend's apartment then residing in Carle Place, not far from the sprawling newly opened Roosevelt Field Shopping Mall and the wildly popular Roosevelt Raceway. The harness track would eventually become one of Dominick’s favorite hangouts as well as figure prominently into some future trouble he’d have.

Roosevelt Raceway, Westbury, LI

A year or so later, he moved to another apartment, one town over, in Mineola.

By 1964, he was residing in a one-family ranch-styled home located at 3639 Marjorie Lane in the town of Seaford.

Side Note: Dominick was always known to keep his personal life very private and close to the breast. But it is believed that by this point in time he may have gotten remarried to a woman by the name of Marjorie (coincidentally). He may have also been the parent of two daughters with either her or another paramour. Some years later, at the time of Santoro’s death, his obituary makes mention of a wife, children, grandchildren, and other relatives.

By the late 1960s, Santoro had relocated once again. He was now living in a one-bedroom apartment located in a luxury rental building, at 451 Fulton Avenue, in the town of Hempstead.

By 1970, he had moved again and was now thought to be residing in the nearby town of Merrick.

Born To Be a “Street Guy”

Dominick Santoro was born to be a “street guy.” He absolutely reveled in the nightlife. Maybe that’s why he gravitated early on in his life to the restaurant and nightclub business.

He was said to have been most comfortable and most “in his element” when he was around booze, broads, horses, gambling, nightclubs, and hoodlums (not necessarily in that order.) They were his lifeblood, and it was a lifestyle that just came naturally to him.

As mentioned above, although he was known to have married at least once during his lifetime -- and maybe a second time as well -- in his heart, Dominick was a confirmed bachelor. He was happiest to remain a “free bird” so to speak.

His reputation was that of a happy-go-lucky, fun-loving guy who was quick with a joke, quick-witted, and quick on his feet.

Dominick was well known to be one of the very best story and joke tellers, who consistently kept his fellow mob guys laughing and in stitches with his jokes and wild antics. He made for a perfect knock-around guy.

By all reports, Santoro was a very well-liked fellow.

The Mob’s “Social Director”

By the mid-1950s, Santoro was being identified by the Nassau County Rackets Squad as a mob “associate” who was known to frequent a variety of mobbed-up restaurants, bars, and clubs throughout the county. In fact, earlier in his career, Dominick had held an ownership interest in several local bars and taverns.

By his early forties, because of his extensive restaurant industry experience and his engaging personality, Santoro served variously as the maitre’d and manager at several top Nassau restaurants where he hosted the clientele.

By that point in his career, he was also playing host to many future top names in the local underworld. Dominick could arguably be viewed as someone akin to the Long Island mob’s “social director.”

The Nassau Rackets Bureau, under the supervision and direction of County District Attorney William Cahn and his top assistant, Norman Levy, described Santoro as an intimate friend and close criminal “associate” of important members of the Joseph Colombo crime family. They said these same members were now starting to purchase homes and move their personal families out to Nassau.

Law enforcement authorities worried that these men were also moving their crime families into the county as well, spearheading the mob’s move onto the Island.

Chief among these top hoodlums was a veteran family capo named Sebastiano (Buster) Aloi and Aloi’s protege, a fast-rising star within the Colombo family by the name of John Franzese.

Where the Colombos Hung Out

Better known as Sonny, he and several of his top men were soon front and center nearly every night, saddled up to the bar of several popular local watering holes.

Val Anthony’s, Caesar’s Table, The Clam Box, The Sulky, The Island Inn, The Westbury Chef, Tivoli Accent Room, and The Cloud Room inside the Roosevelt Raceway were just a few of all the restaurants and nightclubs where Colombo mob guys could now be found regularly.

And wherever the hoods were hanging out, it seemed that Santoro was right there in the mix with them. In fact, Dominick was later credited by law enforcement with having actually opened the doors of several watering holes and eateries by making introductions to the owners and managers of these licensed businesses so as to help establish relations between these businesses and the racket guys for future mob infiltration of that industry.

Santoro seemed to know everybody who was anybody in the local underworld. But among his closest friends and daily associates, law enforcement noted were key members and associates of the Franzese regime, including Robert (Bobby Green) Falvo, John Malizia, Louis (Lou Curry) Arcuri, George Papageorge, Ralph (Ronnie) Esposito, Robert (Blue Eyes) Mauro, Joseph (Joe Nap) Napolitano, as well as, Sonny Franzese, himself.

Others included Franzese’s personal driver and bodyguard, John (Johnny Irish) Matera, Joseph (Whitey) Florio, Joseph (Joe Bella Nap) Vito, and Rocco (Rocky the Rug) Lauria.

A Person of Ill Repute

In 1964, Dominick was among dozens of men and women arrested by the Nassau Vice Squad for what was described at the time as a multimillion-dollar-a-year organized prostitution ring operating along the Old Country Road sector in Nassau County.

Assistant Nassau D.A. Norman Levy charged those arrested with various criminal counts for their participation in what he described as a large call girl ring that utilized Nassau County housewives and young mothers as high-class “hookers” who went on “dates” with “johns” organized by a 35-year old local madame he identified as Connie McAllister, of Hicksville.

McAllister’s brother, Frank Pizzo, and a former Nassau County Policeman named John Beck were also charged with operating the ring.

Officer Beck resigned his post promptly after he refused to waive immunity before the grand jury.

Authorities considered several other indicted men to be either actual mob associates or operating on the periphery of the underworld. They included Joseph (Joe Nap) Napolitano, Vincent (Jimmy Macaroni) Maccarone, Vincent (Jimmy) Perrella, and Santoro. Each of those arrested was charged with criminal solicitation, aiding and abetting prostitution, and keeping a “disorderly house” (house of prostitution).

Many other individuals arrested were identified as being legitimately employed as restaurant owners and managers, bartenders, waiters, motel managers or clerks, doormen, etc. They were charged as having “aided and abetted” the prostitution ring by acting as “steerers.”

Suspects in this category included Max Rosenbaum, Frank Mannoni, Joseph (Val Anthony) Cutaia, Harry Mock, Agostino (Augie) Iannacci, Epaminondas (Pete) Peters, Odel Wiley, Alan Black, Ernest Szeredi, Harry Markos, Barbara Stock, Terri Lillie, Ethel DuPont, Lou Chapas, Tilford (Til) Gross, Joseph Chinnici Jr., Richard Dina, Michael Kotowski, Sam Dolney, and Joseph Rocco.

The six local women accused of being common prostitutes were named as Fredericka Kump, 25; Marie De Filippi, 26; Jeanette Geran, 46; Grace (Sherry) Lampicky, 39; Irene DeLise, 27; and Grace Reisel, 35.

McAllister, Pizzo, and Beck were each charged variously with 23 counts of prostitution, seven counts of felony crime for inducing another person to commit prostitution, one count of receiving money from a woman engaged in prostitution, aiding and abetting prostitution, rape, and soliciting for prostitution.

McAllister was also charged with one count of first-degree grand larceny for receiving monthly welfare checks while working as a prostitute. Several lesser misdemeanor counts were also lodged against MacAllister.

The “Entertainment District”

The women were generally dispatched via telephone by McAllister after she negotiated prices and terms with her “regular” customers who would call her to set up prostitution dates with various girls she had in her employ. At other times, many of McAllister’s young women and independent young prostitutes alike hung around the various motel lounges, bars, and restaurants that dotted the “entertainment district” along Old Country Road in the towns of Carle Place, Westbury, and Garden City.

At the time, Dominick was the manager of a popular restaurant on Old Country Road named The Clam Box. He came under scrutiny and was accused of knowingly allowing prostitution to take place on the premises. He was specifically charged with several counts of conspiracy and the aiding and abetting of prostitution by allowing hookers to hang around the bar nightly and ply their trade.

Dozens of others were similarly charged, including the above-mentioned owners of several well-known restaurants and nightclubs, as well as managers, bartenders, maitre’d, doormen, motel owners, property managers, etc. A half-dozen women ranging in age from the early twenties to the mid-forties were charged as being prostitutes.

It was a major scandal that was splashed across the front pages of Long Island’s daily newspaper, Newsday, and other local tabloids. Newsmen continued covering the story for many months to come.

Among the better-known locations prosecutors named as being complicit in the scheme as either “pick up joints” or “motel locations where sex was exchanged” were the popular John Peel Room at the Island Inn Hotel; Blackie’s Raceway Motel; The Lounge at The Holiday Inn; Conrad’s Restaurant; The Jericho Lounge; Chappies; The Tivoli Motel, and its adjacent Accent Room Supper Club; The Westbury Chef Restaurant; Val Anthony’s Nightclub; The Clam Box Restaurant; Gam Wah Chinese Restaurant; The Sea Net; The Island Steak House, and several other popular locations throughout Nassau County.

Despite all the bad publicity and fallout amid the massive sweep of suspects on the day of the arrests, eventually, nearly every defendant was allowed to plead out to vastly reduced charges of vagrancy or disorderly conduct.

Most received fines and/or were placed on probation. Several women who were repeat offenders served minor jail sentences for prostitution. Dominick pled out to a reduced charge of disorderly conduct, paid a small fine, and was placed on probation.

Although he was ostensibly usually employed in the restaurant business at one licensed establishment or another, law enforcement listed Santoro as augmenting his income though the years by actively engaging in shylocking, gambling, bank and business frauds, prostitution, and race-fixing.

The Racket Squad considered him to be a shylock and gambler operating under the auspices and direction of members of the Colombo Family.

Criminal Activities

Over the years, his arrest record included charges of conspiracy, vagrancy, soliciting for prostitution, federal liquor law violations, attempting to dope a horse, and disorderly conduct (twice).

1957-- He was charged for his involvement in a $650,000 bank fraud case in Upstate Suffern, NY.

1964 -- Santoro was indicted along with thirty-nine others by Nassau authorities in the aforementioned prostitution case.

1966 -- U.S. Treasury Agents arrest Santoro and three other men on federal liquor law violations during a vice raid on an unlicensed “after-hours” club.

1967 -- He is arrested for attempting to dope a racehorse to affect its performance in a licensed sporting event.

1970 -- Charged with disorderly conduct and vagrancy after a police raid for having consorted with known criminals.

The Race Fixing Scheme

In 1967, he was one of dozens of witnesses subpoenaed before a Nassau County Grand Jury that was investigating allegations underworld figures had attempted to fix several harness races the previous year, of January 1966, at Roosevelt Raceway.

The highly-publicized race-fixing probe centered around reports received by the District Attorney’s office that mobsters had assaulted leading harness driver William (Buddy) Gilmour after the sulky driver refused to throw a race on the night of January 22, 1966.

The NYS Racing Commission said that Santoro, in concert with John Malizia and Robert Falvo -- two men later identified as known gamblers and convicted bookmakers -- allegedly first attempted to bribe Buddy Gilmour and another up-and-coming young harness driver named Robert A. (Bobby) Shuttleworth, to go along with several race-fixing schemes.

Gilmour was said to have first agreed to go along with the scheme but then double-crossed the gamblers at the last minute. Subsequently, right after the suspect race ended, with Gilmour actually winning a race he had agreed to lose, he was lured to a room at the nearby Island Inn Hotel, where he was then assaulted by Malizia.

In its day, Roosevelt Raceway was a popular hot spot.

Later information gleaned through informant testimony indicated that Buddy Gilmour had first agreed to hold his horse back and throw the race in favor of another driver on the track that evening, namely Bobby Shuttleworth. The particular race in question was identified as the “Fourth Race” run at Roosevelt Raceway on the night of January 22, 1966.

When he appeared several years later before a United States Senate Hearing Investigation on Organized Crime in Sports, Nassau District Attorney William Cahn testified that “Buddy Gilmour, who was driving in this particular race, was supposed to go along with the others and permit Shuttleworth to win. Gilmour did not, in fact, go along with the others and won the race that Shuttleworth was supposed to win.

Cahn continued, “When questioned about these incidents by both the New York State Harness Racing Commission and the Nassau County Grand Jury, which was then conducting this investigation, these key drivers gave conflicting testimony for which they were ultimately indicted for perjury by the Nassau County Grand Jury.”

District Attorney Cahn then stated, “As a result of Gilmour’s winning the race, it was determined during the probe that he was physically assaulted by a known member of syndicated organized crime operating within the confines of Nassau County, namely one, John Malizia. As a result of this particular incident, Malizia was indicted for the assault on Gilmour and was convicted.”

Banned from the Track

Although no immediate arrests were forthcoming, in January of that year, the New York State Harness Racing Commission ended up denying a 1967 racing license to harness drivers Gilmour and Shuttleworth.

Racing authorities stated that both men had repeatedly lied when questioned before the commission and the grand jury about possible fixed races taking place at Roosevelt and the specific events that took place on the night of the alleged assault.

The commission also issued notices of expulsion to both men, which essentially denied them access to step foot on the premises of any racetrack in the United States.

Side Note: After his expulsion by the NYS Racing Commission from “having any participation, either on or off, the track at all racetracks across the nation,” Buddy Gilmour didn’t get his harness racing license back for over three and a half years. He also suffered suspensions in 1971 and 1972. Then in 1973, Gilmour was indicted once again in another nationwide race-fixing scheme involving dozens of suspects that federal prosecutors say was orchestrated by members of the Lucchese mob.

While the racing probe continued, the commission also issued permanent “notices of expulsion” against five persons, including Malizia, Falvo, and Santoro, as well as two other men described as heavy bettors, namely, Lew Auster and Arnold Liss.

The five men were banned from all racetracks across the United States on the legal grounds that they were “undesirables, bookmakers, gamblers, and/or underworld figures.”

Santoro was specifically described by the commission as a “person of ill-repute and an associate of persons engaged in organized crime.”

Closing In Again

Over the next year or so, investigators from Cahn’s office dug deeper and discovered that although Gilmour denied even knowing or ever associating with either Malizia or Santoro, personal members of Malizia’s family, including his wife Maria, his mother, and sister-in-law Yolanda, had endorsed and then cashed over $24,000 in personal checks that Gilmour had written to them.

Investigators also traced several additional checks paid from Gilmour to Santoro. This widening law enforcement probe was now starting to close in on the suspects.

Because of the very nature of the investigation and the far-reaching implications of “fixed horse races” at New York area tracks, the case was widely reported on both on television and in newspapers across the country for over a year.

Dozens of nationally known harness drivers were subpoenaed for their testimony about their possible involvement in the fixing scheme or about any knowledge they may have had about various individuals connected to the scheme.

After three months of investigation, the Nassau District Attorney’s Office eventually charged Gilmour with eight counts of perjury on April 11, 1967. Shuttleworth was also hit with several counts of perjury that same day for his false testimony before the same Nassau Grand Jury.

John Malizia was arrested for assault in the attack on Gilmour.

Several other horsemen, including top horse trainers and owners, and even top harness drivers themselves, were also charged with varying counts of contempt or perjury relating to their appearances and testimony before the same grand jury.

A year later, in 1968, Santoro would be indicted as well in another semi-related race fixing scheme connected to the same investigation.

Hauled before the 1967 grand jury were such popular nationally known “Million-Dollar Winners Circle” sulky drivers as Del Insko, Carmine Abbatiello, Forrest Gerry, Frank Popfinger, Benny Webster, Kenneth McNutt, and William Myer.

The Chickens Come Home to Roost

Then, on May 11, 1967, the proverbial chickens — or should we say horses — finally came home to roost.

The 45-year-old Santoro was released on $2500 bail after he was indicted by the Nassau County Grand Jury on charges of ‘attempted race-fixing’ for having attempted to inject performance-enhancing drugs into various racehorses while inside the equine’s stable after an ‘allegedly’ friendly groom secretly allowed Santoro access to the stalls.

In actuality, Santoro fell into an undercover “sting” conducted jointly by the District Attorney’s Racket Squad and New York State Police after Dominick had approached a popular owner-trainer-driver of a stable of horses and solicited his cooperation in the doping scheme.

After Santoro’s approach, the horse owner went directly to the New York State Police and the Nassau DA’s office and agreed to be wired up for sound for his next meeting with Santoro.

Over the next several months, he and Santoro discussed various methods and the chemical substances Dominick would use to inject his horses in the doping-betting scheme. Pretending to go along, the unidentified horse owner recorded each of several incriminating discussions.

In a series of meetings recorded near both Roosevelt and Yonkers Racetracks, Santoro stated that the solution he would inject into the horses would make them run faster. Santoro tried to convince the owner that the substance had been used before, and that is was very effective and safe.

Santoro also said it could not be detected in saliva or urine tests. Dominick told the owner that he was only interested in using the substance on horses with poor records and that no horse would be doped more than once a month.

The first contact between Santoro and the cooperating informer had started in early 1966, and continued until late fall of that year, when the investigation of harness racing irregularities first hit the newspapers.

Can’t Stop a Free Spirit

Then, several years later, in 1970, Santoro was among those arrested in a surprise vice raid conducted at the Casbah Lounge, located along Hempstead Turnpike in East Meadow. The authorities said that 17 suspects — many of whom they identified as local underworld figures — were picked up and charged in the raid.

Police charged Santoro with disorderly conduct and vagrancy.

A fellow Colombo Family associate of Santoro’s by the name of Frederick (Fat Freddy) DiGregorio was also arrested. At the time of their arrests, DiGregorio was on parole after having only recently having been released from prison after serving a jail term for attempted fraud.

Subsequently, the New York State Parole Commission revoked DiGregorio’s parole and threw him back in jail for associating with known criminals and felons, namely Dominick Santoro, who was a well-known hoodlum.

Side Note: Di Gregorio had only recently been released from jail on a previous conviction for possession of a stolen credit card and grand larceny after he was caught attempting to use the stolen card down in Miami Beach, Florida.

Dominick’s frequent arrests, extensive newspaper exposure, and underworld associations brought Santoro constant law enforcement surveillance during the 1960s and early 1970s, but the free-spirited Santoro continued on, seemingly unfazed by this increased law enforcement scrutiny and his unsolicited popularity.

A Sudden End

Then, on September 19, 1972, the unexpected happened.

That morning, while at home making a pot of coffee in the kitchen of his apartment, Dominick suddenly collapsed to the floor from a massive heart attack. He lived alone, so nobody was available to come to his aide. By the time Dominick’s body was discovered several days later, he was already long gone. Dominick L. Santoro was only 51 years old.

It was a quick ending to the short, fast-paced life of a man who, seemingly, was an unabashed, unrepentant racketeer.

Santoro’s family shipped his body back to New York City for the wake. He was reposed for two days at the Farenga Brothers Funeral Home, 920 Allerton Avenue, Bronx. Dominick was then entombed at the Ferncliff Mausoleum.

Although there was no documentation regarding when Dominick’s mother, Anna Maria, passed away, his father, Michele, died six years after his oldest son. Michele Santoro died at his home in the Bronx in June 1978. He was 90 years old.

His old man had outlived Dominick by almost 40 years.

Postscript: As mentioned above, Dominick’s public death notice came as something of a surprise to many people who thought they knew him well. According to his obituary, at the time of his death, he was living in Merrick with his estranged wife, Marjorie. In addition, it stated, “Husband of Marjorie, father of Anna Russo & Linda Lococo. Grandfather of Michael Russo. Son of Michael and Anna Santoro. Brother of captain Paul Santoro.”

Until next time…”The Other Guy”

Dominick Santoro: Born to Be a “Street Guy”

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