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Dear friends,

This time of year always brings back memories of my grandfather. He was a powerful, wealthy and slightly insensitive man who owned a number of wildly successful sweatshops on the lower east side of Manhattan. I was only 5 years old when one day he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me away from my sewing machine to impart the following words of wisdom.
“Remember your Jewish heritage, you little idiot,” he said. “The Jews are a great people, and we can accomplish anything, as long as it doesn’t involve guns or ice fishing!”

I made a mental note that I should never move to Minnesota and asked him how much longer I would have to work for him.

“Until you pay off your debt to me,” he said. “But stop complaining. I pay you a buck an hour and that’s twice as much as anyone else here gets!”

At that time I owed him $76,000.00 but since I was working 18 hours a day I knew it was only a matter of time before I paid him off. However, as luck would have it, my grandfather met with a rather unexpected death when an electric toaster accidentally fell into the water while he was taking a bath. This afforded me my freedom, so I began attending public school in New Jersey which I found to be far more horrifying than working for my grandfather.

Anyway, I’ve tried to provide a more tender method of parenting, and as a result my kids have never displayed any homicidal tendencies, other than the time I couldn’t get good seats for a Britney Spears show.
It’s hard to believe that my daughter Sarah is 17 years old! Sarah is so worried about pollution that she has chosen not to get her drivers license and belongs to an activist group called: Hummer Owners for a Safer Environment.

My ex-wife and I have invested in a new summer camp that is truly one of a kind. It’s a camp for aspiring sports agents, which our son Andrew attended and enjoyed immensely. Enrollment for this coming summer has doubled, although many returning campers have bounced their checks, so we are now only accepting payment via credit cards and certified checks.

I look forward to a prosperous 2006, and while I haven’t been following politics lately, I believe that George W. Bush is capable of turning the world into what it once was: a barren wasteland.

Happy Holidays,

- Rob

Dear Everyone,

Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Beautiful Boxing Day along with a warm acknowledgment to all of the other Holidays, religions and belief systems that exist on this planet, in this Universe, in other Universes and in all of the many different cosmic places we don’t even know about yet!

Speaking of otherworldly, futuristic experiences, the days, weeks and months zoomed by so fast this year it seems like the entire planet went through some kind of time warp! My situation may have something to do with the new personal-growth program I’ve been practicing: Self Esteem While You Sleepä (developed by Dr. Ishmael Kapoor-Weinstein, Jr.) It’s an easy-to-follow regimen based on a simple natural herbal concoction: Consume four Excedrin P.M.’s along with a large (approximately the size of a milkshake) vodka martini on a Sunday between 6:57 & 7:09 p.m. Then immediately climb into bed and sleep straight through to 7:00 p.m. on Thursday. The results are immediate! After my first session, not only was I incredibly well rested, but I also lost 14 pounds without any effort and also avoided the most boring part of the week!

I know everyone is clamoring to hear about what a great summer we had! I finally introduced my wife and kids to my relatives from Brooklyn. We attended my cousin Stevie’s July 4th barbecue, which Sarah and Andrew mistakenly assumed was the set of one of those low budget independent films where an extremely annoying ethnic family does nothing except eat a lot and scream at each other.

I was happy because nobody was arrested or sent to the hospital, like last summer, when my Uncle Manny had one of his Pearl Harbor flashbacks and accidentally shot his wife, my Aunt Yetta. It was really the fault of their neighbor, Mrs. Blaustein, who is 87 years old and — because of acute senility — believes she is still living in the year 1955. Mrs. Blaustein was about to take her afternoon nap when the smell of barbecued hot dogs convinced her there was a Dodger’s game in progress at Ebbet’s Field. She immediately jumped out of bed, and still wearing her red silk nightgown, burst into Stevie’s yard screaming repeatedly, “Murder the Yankees!” Although my Uncle Manny is a highly decorated World War II veteran, he also has cataracts in both eyes so it was no surprise when he mistook Mrs. Blaustein’s red nightgown for a Japanese Kimono. Uncle Manny also suffers from a mild case of Parkinson’s disease, so there was a great deal of panic when he grabbed Stevie’s .38 caliber police special, pointed it at Mrs. Blaustein and screamed: “Watch me put a bullet through your heart, Tokyo Rose!” Instead, he succeeded in shooting Aunt Yetta, who was sleeping in a hammock on the other side of the yard. Fortunately, the bullet struck her foot, and as luck would have it, she was wearing a new pair of steel shank motorcycle boots — a present from her daughter Mindy, a wildly successful high-fashion model and respected Lesbian activist. Slowed by the steel plating, the bullet merely grazed Aunt Yetta’s pinky toe and resulted in the removal of a bothersome bunion.

As for my marriage, a friend described it as a cross between an Italian Opera and Public Access Cable Programming. I consider that a compliment, because I went to the Opera once, and before I fell asleep I noticed that the audience was composed of the type of well-dressed, sophisticated, powerful people that Dominick Dunne always writes about. Because of our hectic schedules my wife and I seldom see one another, so we recently decided to “really talk about things” on those rare occasions when our paths cross. I think it’s working, because last week Yolanda spoke to me for the first time in three months. She said, “Hey Jimmy, looks like you lost some weight!” While this may sound disappointing on the surface, I must add that it was well past midnight and she was racing across 72nd Street in one of those limousines with heavily tinted windows.

I know you all want to hear about my wonderful, gifted, really, perfect children. What can I say — they’re just great! Sarah is nine years old and in the fourth grade at the very prestigious Nightingale-Bamford School. She is idolized by her classmates, worshiped by the faculty and is already besieged with scholarship offers from all of the top Ivy League schools. Her main hobby is reading lots of books — some of her favorites include Dostoevski, Jackie Collins and The Koran — just to name a few. She also excels as a member of the chess club, plays on the soccer team and we expect her qualify as an alternate on the Olympic croquet team.

Amazingly, Sarah still finds the time — not to mention the energy — to regularly participate in a wide range of international symposiums with other well-known scholars, famous scientists and extremely rich Hollywood movie stars who enjoy mingling with bona fide smart people. In fact, Sarah recently presented a thesis paper at Oxford on the Supercollider and it went extraordinarily well, aside from the one embarrassing moment when she demanded that Dr. Steven Hawking “speed it up” when he attempted to compliment her.

My son Andrew has decided that he need not go further than third grade at the highly revered St. Bernard’s school and we agree! He makes a substantial income by shaking down children from a few enormously wealthy families, and then parlays those funds via his uncanny ability to handicap racehorses. Recently, Andrew hit a long shot on a Trifecta at the Meadowlands and treated the family to a weekend in Las Vegas! We stayed in the Vice-Presidential Suite at the Mirage Hotel and not only did we see Ziegfreid & Roy, but we dined at exact replicas of famous overpriced restaurants from New York City. On top of that, the entire trip was comped! Andrew wants to make this a monthly ritual, and I promised we would come back as often as he wants — as soon as he becomes an expert card counter.

It is no secret that I have always been highly critical of Kathy Lee Gifford. A few years ago I proposed creating a special Kathie Lee anthology for the purpose of rehabilitating and/or torturing serial killers, PETA activists as well as self-important celebrities like Susan Sarandon and Alec Baldwin.

However, after the events of September 11th 2001, I was concerned it might appear rather thoughtless to continue ranting and raving about Kathie Lee, so I asked my Aunt Yetta for advice. She told me that no matter how bad things get, we must never lose perspective. “There are many terrible people in the world,” said Aunt Yetta. “But that doesn’t make Kathie Lee Gifford any less of an idiot.”

So, until next year… Warm Regards, All The Best etc.

Anthony “Tony” Amoroso was a Bronx street-kid who couldn’t stay out of trouble. A disciplinary problem his entire life, (he received his High School diploma by promising not to attend the graduation ceremony. Amoroso then joined the Army, where he immediately distinguished himself by assaulting a Staff Sergeant. Amoroso avoided a dishonorable discharge because an “Uncle” in the construction business was able to intervene and arrange an early release from the military.

Upon leaving the Army, Amoroso landed a job that suited his personality perfectly. His work brought him together with gamblers, bookmakers, thieves and corrupt politicians. This exciting on-the-edge job would eventually deliver him to the lifestyle he had always dreamed of: expensive cars, luxurious yachts, enormous mansions and beautiful women.
Amoroso was a top undercover agent for the F.B.I.

John Good was also born and raised in the Bronx, but in a totally different environment. Good was the product of a strict Irish Catholic upbringing. His father and Uncle were both Special Agents of the F.B.I and his two other Uncles were priests. Good had five siblings, four of whom worked for the F.B.I. John Good always knew he would work for the Bureau, he just never imagined he would have a partner like Anthony Amoroso.

In 1977, John Good and Anthony Amoroso began conducting one of the most sensational government “sting” operations of all time. Never before in the history of law enforcement has any case ended with the results and effect of ABSCAM.

With Good as the supervising agent and Amoroso as the key undercover man, Senators, Congressmen, City Councilmen, a Mayor and many other prominent people, all who misused their public positions to take advantage of an illegal get-rich-quick-scheme, were convicted and sentenced to jail.

During the two-year investigation — which spanned ten states along with the District of Columbia — not one piece of information was obtained through court-ordered wire taps or surveillance. Good’s innovative method was to create an environment or a “stage” that attracted corrupt politicians, who became “actors,” willingly displaying their incredible greed and corruption.

The F.B.I. enlisted the aid of Melvin Weinberg to engineer the “sting.” A “con man” turned government informant, his “role” was to act as the business agent for two extremely wealthy Arab Sheiks seeking American outlets for their cash. Weinberg would pass the word of big money available for deals to other con men and whoever else moved between the legitimate and illegitimate. If criminal proposals appeared, action would be taken by the F.B.I.

Word spread quickly about Weinberg’s access to a virtually inexhaustible supply of Arab cash. Weinberg was soon approached by Angelo Errichetti, who was the Mayor of Camden, New Jersey, as well as a State Senator. He claimed to have extraordinary influence in obtaining gambling casino licenses as well as the ability to by and sell narcotics, guns and counterfeit securities. He also professed an intimate knowledge of which members of the New Jersey legislature could be bought.

The F.B.I. agents were operating out of a luxurious 65 foot yacht that was supposedly owned by the Arabs. Errichetti introduced the undercover agents to Howard Criden, a Philadelphia lawyer seeking investors for a gambling casino in Atlantic City. In July of 1979, Errichetti and Criden met with Weinberg and Amoroso in Florida to discuss financing. They also explored the possibility of the “Sheiks” eventually becoming permanent residents of the U.S., should a revolution occur in their country. Amoroso told Errichetti that that money would be no problem should they require cooperation from public officials.

The meeting convinced Errichetti and Criden to form an alliance. They would produce powerful government officials, who in return for money, would use their political influence on behalf of the “Sheiks.” They quickly arranged meetings in New York, Philadelphia and Washington.

Undercover agents received cash payoffs from six Congressmen, one immigration official, Mayor Errichetti, two members of the Philadelphia City Council, and allegedly, from a member of the New Jersey Casino Control Commission. During this time, undercover agents negotiations were being held with Senator Harrison A. Williams, Jr. and Congressman John M. Murphy, in connection with promised investments on projects in which each would hold an illegal interest.

In all of these cases, the principal evidence against most of the defendants consisted of videotapes of their own words and actions. Some of the defendants were able to plea bargain, but all those brought to trial were found guilty by a jury on one or more counts.

Amoroso’s maintained his undercover identity and continued to promote himself as a “money man,” which he certainly found to be the most enjoyable aspect of his job. In Miami, Amoroso lived on a 65 foot yacht, drove a Lincoln Mark V and had an unlimited supply of spending money. In New York he stayed at the Plaza Hotel and cruised around town in a chauffeured limousine. He also had a luxurious apartment in Atlantic City, as well as an elegant townhouse in Washington, D.C.

Shortly after taking up residence on the yacht, the Captain informed Amoroso that it was low on fuel, and Amoroso told him to “fill ’er up.” The Captain went on to explain that it would cost $3,300.00, Amoroso handed over his Government issued American Express Card. A group of beautiful nurses lived next door to Amoroso’s Washington townhouse. So as not to jeopardize the operation, Supervisor Good declared the nurses off-limits. None of the agents paid any attention to the girls and it was quickly assumed that a group of gay men were living in the townhouse. The house was stocked with a fabulous wine cellar and Amoroso was ordered to keep a careful inventory that included retaining each bottle that he used. Instead, he drank enormous amounts of wine, kept no records and threw away the empty bottles. Amoroso and some other agents once went as far as trapping Good in the house by re-setting the sophisticated alarm system. Then they went out to the most expensive restaurant in Washington. Amoroso gambled in Atlantic City with his “moneyman” funds and parlayed that into an additional $8,000.00, which he used for further extravagances.

The most common misconception about F.B.I. agents is that they are all blond, blue-eyed mid-westerners in Brooks Brothers suits and white button-down shirts. While Good and Amoroso were distinguished agents, they were also human beings. Clearly, the most fascinating part of the ABSCAM operation was the fine line the undercover agents were forced to walk between their jobs and the criminal world in which they were deeply involved. Both Amoroso and Good were extremely proud of their abilities and professionalism as agents, but they were also the first to admit to the lure of the excitement brought on by living on the edge and the enjoyment of the job’s many perks. They were also well aware that the incredible demands of the job set up emotional conflicts that eventually destroyed both their marriages.

The story of ABSCAM is certainly unique, and the most compelling aspect of that story is the powerful human drama produced from the experiences of Anthony Amoroso and John Good.