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The Mafia Helped Me Lose $400 Million
The Mafia Helped Me Lose $400 Million
The Mafia Helped Me Lose $400 Million
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The Mafia Helped Me Lose $400 Million

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This incredible, page-turning book is the true story of Steve Bazsuly. His story involves high finance, fraud, the FBI, takedowns, prison, F. Lee Bailey, O.J. Simpson, former President Donald Trump, and five infamous New York Mafia families. Convicted of financial crimes, Steve twice spent time behind bars.


Steve fearlessly wri

LanguageEnglish
Release dateMar 10, 2022
ISBN9781685154011
The Mafia Helped Me Lose $400 Million
Author

Steve Bazsuly

Steve Bazsuly studied architecture in college and worked as apprentice in the building trades before enlisting in the army. He served with the 184th Army Security Agency in Europe, then was assigned as an intelligence analyst with the 313th Military Intelligence Battalion, which is part of the 82nd Airborne Division based in Fort Bragg, North Carolina.After leaving the military, he served as president and CEO for a number of private and publicly held companies. His business background includes construction, real estate development, newspaper publishing, international import and export of products including electronics, food, and e-commerce businesses. Steve managed a huge portfolio of real estate consisting of thousands of apartments and commercial properties throughout the US, including Alaska and Hawaii. He is also an accomplished musician and was the lead singer for a number of bands and is proficient at the bass guitar, double bass, drums, and lead guitar. His rock bands have toured in Europe and the Pacific Rim, entertaining thousands of fans.

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    The Mafia Helped Me Lose $400 Million - Steve Bazsuly

    A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR

    I

    am 76 years young and have traveled the world for both business and pleasure. My story is not fictional; it's my firsthand experiences with the good, the bad and the very ugly. It starts off with my childhood and moves along through many experiences in life and business – and finally, my involvement with the Mafia and many other national and international fraudsters, some of whom are still ripping investors off with their schemes that in most cases wind up as losses to all that they touch.

    I have been up the ladder of success and hit the bottom many times, only to get up and take a shot at life once again. I have been convicted of financial crimes that involved real-estate deals that went bad which put me behind bars twice – which I call the Gated Community. I will share my experiences behind bars, which will give you a taste of the ins and outs of the slammer.

    My story involves the five Mafia families, Presidents and Prime Ministers as well as other high-profile characters that are and were in public view over the years. My contact with the Mafia includes the story of Donnie Brasco and King's Court FBI bust in Pasco County Florida, which was depicted in the blockbuster movie Donnie Brasco. I built the building and knew all the players, some of which were whacked, or others that committed suspicious suicides. There were many other players that were pulled into the FBI's spider web!

    Other chapters in my book involve President Trump and his association with my former associate Lesley Greyling and his high-rolling ventures which caused millions of dollars in losses to whomever he touched. There are other personalities in my novel that include F. Lee Bailey, O.J. Simpson, and others with names ending in a vowel.

    I also had a Public Company with over 5,000 shareholders that was busted by the FBI. They charged 150 people, which included the arrest and take down of the five Mafia families in New York. The Feds called it the biggest Mafia bust in U.S. history. It made international headlines, CBS Evening News with Mike Wallace, a Time Magazine article that compared my company to the Sopranos TV series titled A PLOTLINE THEY COULDN’T REFUSE. There are many international fraudsters that I write about who are still on the run and continue to beat investors out of millions, from Europe to China, Hong Kong and other countries around the world.

    For those who doubt my story, I have over 3,000 documents, pictures, news releases and other material that support all my experiences with the good, the bad and the very ugly.

    MY FIRST FLASH OF

    CONSCIOUSNESS

    T

    he first day of my memory was being christened at St. Leo's Church in Corona, Queens, New York. I think I was about 3-4 months old. I remember being held in my mother's arms with a lot of people standing around me. I looked at my mother and she had a furry thing wrapped over her shoulder with two black round things at the end of that furry thing. I know now that it was a fox pelt, and the round things were its faux eyes.

    The second thing that happened was leaving the warmth of mother's arms and being handed to someone that was standing by a man with a colorful robe and something around his shoulders. I also remember the colorful windows that surrounded me as I gazed up from her arms. That person was my Godmother. I could see all these people watching me as I was moved away from her body. I felt cold as I looked at up at the man with the robe pouring water upon my head and speaking in a language that sounded like music. As the cold water hit my head, I began to cry. The water he was pouring over my head went up my nose. I always remembered that and spoke to my mother many times about the experience.

    The people that were standing around me were my mother's father and mother, my dad, my godfather, godmother and other family and friends. My mother could not believe that I remembered the details of my christening, but to her astonishment confirmed my memory was correct down to the fox shawl she was wearing. The result of that shock set the stage for the rest of my life.

    GROWING UP IN

    CORONA QUEENS

    M

    y early childhood memories were living in my Grandfather Tony's and Nana's house just off 108th Street on 49th Avenue. It was built in 1901 and the style was similar to Victorian architecture. In the early morning, Grandma made toast and coffee. I watched him pour Carnation condensed milk into his coffee and stirring it while listening to Bob and Ray on the radio. When finished, Grandma would tie his shoes and he was off to work in Manhattan as a furrier. Grandpa Speranza had many famous celebrities as clients. I remember him talking about Jimmy Durante. Rocky Graziano, the Marx Brothers and other sports and film stars of that era.

    The house was huge in my eyes. It was a 3-story home with a finished basement and attic. The first level was occupied by my grandfather's son, Uncle Emil and his wife Aunt Mary. As you walked up the front stoop there were three steps entering the porch that was closed-in with windows and screens. When leaving the porch and entering the first level, there was a huge foyer with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. To the left was a small room which was my cousin Skip's bedroom.

    The adjoining rooms were a kitchen, pantry, master bedroom and parlor. As you walked through the foyer there were the stairs leading to the second floor where my Grandparents lived. It had two bedrooms, one bath, a huge kitchen, and parlor. The parlor had a crystal chandelier and was completed with furniture of that period. At the end of the parlor my grandfather placed a newly purchased Philco television. The television was big and had a small 10 by 10 screen. At that time televisions were expensive and were just beginning to replace the radio. Grandpa had all his friends join him to watch boxing, which was sponsored by Gillette. At times I would step in front of the screen only to be yelled at by everyone as my body blocked their view.

    While this was going on, many of my mother's friends and family would be having coffee and cake in the kitchen. I remember a lot of laughing and chatter from my mother, aunts and friends in the background as the men watched television in the parlor. Almost every morning my mother or Grandma would bang on the cast iron pipes that went down to my Aunt Mary's apartment below, signaling that the coffee was on.

    We lived in the attic and the door was next to my Grandparents’ bedroom. As you opened the door there was a narrow set of stairs which led up to the kitchen. In the kitchen we had a gas stove, icebox and sink and cabinet with a cloth drape that was on a string covering the pots and pans under the sink. The iceman would come once a week to empty the ice tray which was at the bottom of the icebox. He would then place a new block of ice in the box which kept our food chilled. The block of ice cost mom ten cents.

    The bathroom had a commode and small sink. On the other side and across from the stairwell was a small living area with a huge radio. I remember listening to Superman, The Whistler, The Lone Ranger, and other shows which caught my imagination. Bosco Chocolate Syrup was the sponsor of many of the kids’ shows. I remember getting my decoder ring and anxiously waiting for the secret numbers. I was shocked when the message was Drink more Bosco! That was a bummer because we would have to wait for the final numbers for days.

    We weren’t well off at the time and didn’t have much money to spend. I remember one Christmas going with my parents to buy a Christmas tree. My dad would argue with the salesman about the price of the tree. The man wanted $3, and Dad would offer a buck. Eventually they would settle for $2. When we got home, Dad carried the tree up the narrow stairs and put it in the small living room. I remember my mother asking Dad about a Christmas stand. Well, we didn’t have one. My dad's solution to the problem was to tie a cord around the top of the tree and nail the cord to the ceiling. When he was finished, we decorated the tree and watched it spin around in circles. Grandpa heard the banging. He came up the stairs and couldn’t believe Dad had nailed the tree to the ceiling. He left saying words I could not understand, as it was in Italian.

    My grandfather was at times short with my dad. One day I thought he was going to faint when he saw my father had painted the bathroom commode black.

    On the good side of Grandpa, my cousin Skip and I would wait anxiously for Grandpa to walk from the bus stop as he returned from work. He would stop at Chip's candy store on Corona Avenue to pick up a Hershey bar or an ice cream roll on a sugar cone for us. Chip and Grandpa were friends for many years.

    When Skip and I went to Chip's to buy candy we would fill our pockets with as much candy as we could. Chip always turned a blind eye to what we were doing. We picked up some bubble gum, thinking he didn’t see us fill our pockets with candy. When we were finished loading up, we asked how much we owed him. He never said a thing about what was hidden in our pockets. No matter what we bought, he would always charge two cents. I found out later that Chip's was a front for taking bets for horse racing and the numbers game. I watched him take paper from his clientele when we were filling our pockets with candy.

    Almost every Saturday Grandpa would take me to Chip's to play Bocce Ball. I remember his friends smoking crooked cigars that smelled so terrible they could kill flies. Watching the game, I could not hold back my desire to grab one of the Bocce Balls. I ran towards the balls, picked one up and ran as fast as I could because the men were yelling and swatting their hats at me. I didn’t know they were betting on the game.

    Our neighborhood was mostly of Italian descent. I remember the peddlers coming down the street on horse-drawn carts with fruit and vegetables. On Fridays, the fishman would blow his handheld horn and yell, Uficha! All the women in the neighborhood would rush out of their homes and apartments, mostly dressed in black headscarves or their hair tied in buns, still mourning their husbands who had died 10 to 20 years before. I watched them swarm around the cart, touching all the fish and clams that were on ice in the wagon.

    The other vendor was the knife sharpener. Once every couple of weeks he would appear, and many of the same women came to him to have their knives sharpened. I remember the grinding sound coming from his van. Then there was the iceman, milkman, the eggs, butter, and seltzer man, and the Javelle man. I watched the Department of Sanitation man walking down the street with a big coal shovel. He was pushing a barrel with big wheels and shoveling up the horse apples and plopping the shit into his barrel. I always thought it was a crappy job and wondered if he was being paid by the pound.

    In the summer months we would walk up the hill on 108th Street to THE LEMON ICE KING of Corona, which was right across from Spaghetti Park. My grandfather knew the owner of the store when it opened in 1944. We used to call him Nicol, which was short for Nicola. Grandpa Speranza played Bocce Ball with him and other Goombahs in their circle of friends. They would also play cards at Coppola Funeral Home on Friday nights. This was down the block from our home on 49th Ave, across the street from St. Leo's Church.

    I overheard a story about one of his friends that played cards with them. He wanted to play a joke on Nicola. It was the weekend of the Feast of San Gennaro. Grandpa and two friends took the friend that had died and placed him in his favorite seat. When Nicola came into the room, he almost had a heart attack seeing his friend sitting in his usual spot. That was the type of games they played with each other.

    We would take our entire family to Beacon Hill, New York to swim and have a fun-filled day at the beach. We all got up on the back of Pop's flatbed truck. Grandma would have her favorite chair placed on the truck bed where she sat for our journey to the beach. Aunt Mary, Skip's mom, would make fried chicken, meatballs, peppers and egg sandwiches, and other bites we gobbled up at the beach. I remember the food always tasted better at the beach. It was fun time sitting in the shade of the boardwalk watching my cousins, uncles and Pop playing softball on the sand while some of us swam in the salt water.

    As my cousin Skip and I grew older we developed a lot of friends around the neighborhood. My other cousin Chic who was about four years older than us lived in an apartment house on 108th Street, which was around the corner from our house. Next to the apartment house was Mike's Delicatessen. Chic and Skip were much taller than me, which really put me at a disadvantage. They would take one step to my three steps. I always wanted to compete with them. They had bicycles, and I had a tricycle. It was hell trying to catch up with them. My little feet pedaling so fast reminded me of a hamster running on a spinning wheel going around in circles.

    My cousins always talked me into doing things that made them laugh. I remember many occasions them pushing me to do things while they watched. The first memory I have is when the iceman made deliveries. The truck had many blocks of ice on the bed of the truck. My cousins talked me into getting on the bed of the truck and chopping some ice off the ice block. They boosted me up on the bed of the truck and I chopped off a corner of the block and handed it to them. Suddenly, they took off like a bat out of hell and left me standing on the truck. The iceman returned and found me trying to get down from the truck bed. He realized that I had chipped some ice off the block. He cursed at me in Italian and lifted me down and put me over his knee and spanked me. After a few shots he took me to my grandmother. He said that he spanked me for stealing his ice.

    He said, The kid could take as much ice as he wanted, but don’t break the corners off the block.

    My grandmother was a customer and friend of the iceman and said she would tell my mother about what happened. After he left, she said, Don’t do that again! She never said a word to my mother.

    My cousins got me in more trouble when they concocted a story to go into Mike's delicatessen and tell Mike that someone was stealing his boxes in the back which was at the rear of his store under a shed. They got me to do it. I didn’t know that the plan was to lure Mike to the back, and they never told me that they would drop a cat from the 4th floor of the adjacent building which would hit the tin roof where the boxes were stored. I followed their plan, ran into the store, and told Mike that someone was stealing his boxes. He grabbed my hand and ran to the back of the store looking for the thief. I looked up and saw my cousins drop the cat from the roof above, hitting the tin roof with a bang. Mike jumped and grabbed his heart like Redd Foxx would do in Sanford and Son. Mike caught his breath and looked at me with daggers in his eyes. He then picked me up, and here we go again, gave me a good spanking. I’ll never forget looking up from his knee seeing both my cousins laughing at me from the rooftop. I was so gullible.

    Another memory I have was when we went to the roof of the apartment house to jump from building to building. As my cousins were much taller than me, jumping about two feet to the other building was easy. Me being the runt of the family with short legs, it was like jumping twenty-five feet. They took off and jumped as I watched. We were up about five stories from the alley below. They yelled at me to jump! I was once again being pushed by them to do something I didn’t want to do. But here I go! I backed up to the far end of the building and began to run as fast as I could to make the jump. My feet looked like the Road Runner's cartoon with feet spinning as I approached the parfait wall, jumping from my building to the other building where my cousins were standing. As I reached the end of my building, I closed my eyes and just jumped! I made it! However, I rolled about ten feet past my cousins.

    Another time we were at the Loews Theater in Flushing, Queens watching a Saturday early matinee. As we sat in the second row there were some teenagers that we knew about seven years older than us sitting in the first row. My cousins began to annoy them by kicking the backs of the seats. One of them got up and yelled at us. When the movie ended, I left the theater and went outside. Standing there were the four teens waiting for us. My cousins were standing inside the movie house watching me get my ass kicked by the pissed-off teens. Once again, I took the shot!

    There was another time me and Skip went to the Plaza Theater which was under the railroad overpass (named the L) in Flushing, Queens. My cousin smoked from an early age and had to have a cigarette while we watched the movie. The usher came over to us and said I was smoking. I told the man I never smoked cigarettes in my life. He became terribly angry and hit me in my left eye with his flashlight. It really hurt. After being hit, we both got up and left the theater and went home.

    When we got home, we went upstairs to get something to eat, as the family was just sitting down for dinner. When I got to the table my father asked me how I got a black eye. I told him that I was hit with a flashlight at the theater. That's when my father and my uncle Emil Speranza, Skip's dad, got up and went to the movie house to talk to the man who hit me. You would not like to tangle with my uncle or father as they were wartime veterans and could be very aggressive. As we got to the manager's office both my dad and uncle told the manager that they wanted to talk to the man who hit me. The manager did not want to call the man in to explain the incident. That's when my father grabbed him by his tie and dragged him across the desk. I could see the manager's eyes bulge out as the tie tightened around his neck.

    Alright! he gasped, I’ll get him! as he loosened his tie.

    A few minutes passed and the man who hit me came into the manager's office. My uncle was standing by the door as the man appeared.

    I said, That's the man who hit me!

    That was it. My uncle Emil grabbed him and picked him up and slammed him against the wall. The manager said he would call the police if we did not leave immediately. The battle was over and all of us left his office.

    But my dad's last words were, You’ll hear from my attorney!

    At the end of the story, we got an attorney and settled the case. As a result of the settlement, Mom and Dad were happy driving a new black Buick Roadmaster Convertible.

    THE MOVE TO EAST MEADOW

    I

    n 1950 my parents bought a house in East Meadow, Long Island, financed under the GI Bill. The cost of the house on Madison Drive was $5,990. This was a big move for the family as it was the first time a family member left my grandparents’ home in Corona.

    East Meadow is about 18 miles from downtown Manhattan and was, in some city slickers’ eyes, the countryside, also known as the sticks. The 50s was the time of the Cold War era. We would have the warning sirens go off about 1 pm and 5 pm. We all lived in fear of the atomic bomb.

    I attended Newbridge Elementary School that had monthly drills that taught us to cover up under our desk. Sometimes we would file out of the classroom and be ushered into the hallway and sit down putting our heads between our legs, covering our heads with our hands. We all waited, but the blast never came!

    I remember lunchtime opening my Howdy Doody lunchbox to find a baloney sandwich and sometimes a cream cheese and jelly sandwich. The milk cost two cents. After I reached fifth grade I began to sneak out of the lunchroom and go through an alley which led to Newbridge Road and go to Haven's candy store for lunch. It would cost about fifty cents for a buttered roll, can of Chef Boyardee ravioli and finally, a vanilla malt.

    I remember the seasons by the class parties. Halloween, we had dunking for candy-covered apples and powdered donuts. At Easter time we had chocolate bunnies and other candies. Christmas was all the above, plus candy canes. The Christmas holiday was great as we had entertainment programs such as singing in the chorus and acting out various Christmas scenes in front of an assembly of family and friends. The play time was fun. We would have about an hour to play kick ball, play with the swings, and pushing the merry-go-round, then jumping on it while chanting, We Like Ike!

    COMING TO AMERICA

    W

    hen Uncle Joe mustered out of the Army and went to Europe to find his wife Martha, he eventually found her living with a Russian officer. That came to an abrupt ending when Joe beat the crap out of the Russian and threw him out the window. He said that the war cut him off from any contact with Martha for years and didn’t blame her for anything because she thought he was dead.

    The year was 1946 when my father received a letter from his brother Joe, telling him that he found Grandpa alive and said he was in good shape. Grandpa was captured by the Nazis during World War 2 and placed in a concentration camp working in forced labor, until he was liberated by the Russian Army at the end of the war. He was released to the American occupying forces and transferred to Karlsruhe, Germany. Uncle Joe hadn’t spoken with Dad for years as he was in Europe trying to find out what happened to their father. My dad and his brother worked with the Austrian Resistance getting Jewish families out of the country. The Nazis were murdering Jews and resistance fighters by sending them to concentration camps to be gassed, and then sent to the ovens to be cremated. I will follow up with what happened years after the war, and his death-defying actions that saved many Jewish families from certain death.

    Uncle Joe found out his father was alive in Germany. He was working for the US Army as an interpreter and doing other military duties. Grandfather wrote and spoke six languages – German, Romanian, Serbian, Hungarian, Italian and English – all fluently. Our family tree ran from Romania, Serbia, Hungary, Czechoslovakia and Italy. So, it was natural that he and his sons spoke many languages. During their first conversation in years, they had to catch up on lost time. During the conversation, Uncle Joe told his father that he was a grandfather, and said his name was Steven and that baby Steve was very active and had a happy face. I have retained the letter since it was written on July 1, 1946. Uncle Joe wrote:

    You are hereby sincerely and heartily congratulated on the fact that you are, through the birth of a son (Steven Charles) to Vici, (Victor, my dad) a member of the Grandfathers of the world.

    He ended his letter in Hungarian. Uncle Joe, like Dad and their grandpa, could read and write in many languages.

    He told his father that he had served in the Merchant Marine during the war, transporting supplies to England and Russia. He also said that the sank many ships in his convoys, and added it was U-boats dicey. He also told him that after the stress of the trips and the sinking of the cargo ships all around him he decided to join the United States Army.

    While in the army he was shipped to Okinawa. He jumped from one frying pan into another frying pan.

    Our family was a mixture of cultures and faiths. My dad was brought in the

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