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Honest job spins a tale of the mob

An ambitious young man's story shows the changing face of organized crime in Tampa, federal records suggest.

By JENNIFER LIBERTO
Published September 16, 2005

TAMPA - Years before businessman Michael Malatin became an FBI informant in a case with alleged ties to organized crime, he was a Tampa newcomer looking for an honest job parking cars.

It was 1996 when he flipped through a phone book and called the first valet company he saw, A&A of Tampa. He says nobody told him that owner John Edward Alite was in prison on a gun charge - or, as federal prosecutors now allege, that Alite was the central figure in a Tampa Bay area offshoot of the Gambino crime family.

Then an ambitious 26-year-old, Malatin thought A&A was missing the mark by parking only for nude bars and restaurants. He convinced the manager to let him sell valet service to hospitals, beginning with St. Anthony's in St. Petersburg.

The arrangement lasted only a year. The company's muscle-shirted crew, insistent on tips, intimidated hospital visitors and even a few doctors.

Later, after Malatin left and made it big running his own valet business, Alite demanded money and threatened to rape and kill Malatin's wife, Malatin says in court records.

Alite now sits in a Brazilian jail fighting extradition to Tampa, among seven arrested on federal racketeering charges that they threatened, robbed and assaulted people in New York, New Jersey and the Tampa Bay area.

One of the seven pleaded guilty and will be sentenced Sept. 27. The others are inching toward trial.

Alite, also called John Alletto, is further accused of dabbling in bookmaking and drug dealing. He and his associates are alleged to have robbed $20,000 from a Sears cashier in Vineland, N.J., and to have roughed up a gambling ring in Port St. Lucie.

A few months before Malatin joined A&A, thugs mugged Tampa car dealer Ernie Haire for his $28,000 diamond Rolex in the men's room of Thee Doll House, a strip club, after Haire turned his car over to A&A's valet crew.

Last year, FBI agents told Haire they believed his attackers were mobsters, he said.

"I was surprised, obviously," Haire said. "You always hear of that kind of thing happening in New York - not the Westshore area of Tampa."

If prosecutors are right, then a piece of Haire's watch, like a piece of St. Anthony's valet parking fees, and $2,500 from the Sears heist may have wound up in the hands of the Gambino crime family.

Tampa's mob past has become nostalgic fodder for writers and filmmakers, but federal records suggest that organized crime never disappeared from Tampa. It merely changed shape.

Now, mobile groups of organized crime associates called "crews" migrate to Florida and work independently, while paying dividends to heads of families in New York, New Jersey and Chicago, said Kevin March, who fought organized crime for the U.S. attorney's office for 25 years, before retiring in 1999.

In exchange, the remote operations get protection from the crime families against other organized crime factions.

"If you're in an illegal business you got to have protection, to keep someone from muscling in on your business," March said. "It's saying, "You're not taking over anything, because this guy's with me."'

Alite, 42, is accused of heading up a Tampa crew, beginning about 1993, according to federal documents.

He first caught the eye of authorities back in 1989, when he and another man were arrested with John A. Gotti, son of the late mob boss, all accused of beating up two men and a woman in a Long Island night club.

Alite, who has lived in Queens and New Jersey, was alleged to have made a pass at a man's wife, then punched the man when he objected. The husband underwent surgery on an eye socket. But later, those hurt in the brawl told a grand jury they couldn't identify their assailants, according to a Newsday report. Charges were dropped.

In November 1995, Alite was stopped on a bridge between Pennsylvania and New Jersey with a revolver. He admitted he had been convicted of aggravated assault in New Jersey, which made it illegal for him to have the gun. The following summer, a judge sent Alite to prison for three years.

While at Allenwood Federal Prison, he met New York mobster Antonio Parlavecchio, court records state.

In 2002, Alite was sentenced to another three months in prison for attempting to help Parlavecchio's wife get pregnant by artificial insemination.

Alite's smuggled sperm collection kits in and out of Allenwood to fertility clinics and also bribed a prison guard who oversaw the sperm trade, according to court records.

In 1996, Michael Malatin sat down with the chief of St. Anthony's hospital security, Chuck Figaro. Malatin had this great idea how the hospital, which was founded by Franciscan nuns, could cut costs by outsourcing valet service to A&A of Tampa.

In an interview with the St. Petersburg Times, Figaro said he knew that A&A was parking for strip clubs. But he said he ran background checks and made sure the company was licensed. Figaro decided they deserved a chance.

"I felt as long as they kept that away from the hospital, we shouldn't deny them the opportunity for the contract," Figaro said. "And they were less expensive."

A year later, hospital managers decided the cost saving wasn't worth the trouble.

Doctors and patients had complained all year that the valet staff didn't "look appropriate" for a professional clinic environment, Figaro said. Plus, reports streamed in of damaged cars and flustered patients who felt pressure for tips.

"Little old ladies seemed frightened of them," Figaro said. "A physician mentioned that if one of these guys had asked him for a tip, he'd probably had given up his wallet, because they were scary."

The hospital refused to renew A&A's contract.

Malatin had quit A&A after about a year to start his own valet company, one that parked exclusively for health care facilities.

"I didn't know there was another owner, and that he was in jail," he said. "When I found out, I thought, "I can't be working for a company where my real boss is in jail."'

He emphasizes that his company, Healthcare Parking Systems, is a legitimate enterprise with no ties to organized crime or to his former employer.

Malatin's new company won back St. Anthony's Hospital. Figaro said he was initially skeptical and gave Malatin only week-to-week contracts, threatening to drop him if any problems crept up.

"Finally, he proved himself, and he's still there," Figaro said.

Malatin was a natural at selling his new company, which now serves 130 hospitals in 22 states from Los Angeles to Atlanta.

But as he grew more successful, trouble followed.

In 2000, after Alite left prison, he threatened Malatin and demanded pay-off money, according to court records.

"After I left, they saw the success of the company, and they went after me," Malatin said.

Alite frightened Malatin.

Malatin declined to elaborate, but in a deposition he told of threats against his wife.

Malatin turned to the FBI, according to court records, and recorded Alite at the FBI's behest.

A&A of Tampa changed its name to Prestige Valet in September 2000, according to Florida corporate records. The change was requested by Terry Scaglione, who was listed as the company's new president, with Alite as vice president.

Both are charged in the federal racketeering case.

In July 2001, A&A of Tampa and Prestige Valet jointly sued Malatin and his new company in Hillsborough Circuit Court, accusing Malatin of illegal business practices.

The civil suit claimed that Malatin stole health care clients he acquired for A&A and that he started his new company while working for A&A.

Michael LaBarbera, civil attorney for Prestige, didn't return calls for comment.

But Scaglione's criminal attorney, Thomas Ostrander, said he was familiar with the civil case.

"They kicked Prestige to the curb and now they're making millions on these new parking entities," he said.

Malatin and his attorney, Ed Page, call Prestige Valet's lawsuit a myriad "untrue allegations" triggered by jealousy.

As part of the civil case, the Prestige attorney questioned Malatin under oath, asking about talks Malatin had with the FBI. Malatin said he had recorded conversations with Alite at the FBI's request. The attorney asked about the nature of Alite's threats.

The Prestige attorney also requested copies of Malatin's recordings.

Assistant U.S. attorney Jay Trezevant asked Circuit Judge Herbert Baumann to halt the line of questioning and called Prestige's lawsuit a "thinly veiled attempt" to glean information about the government's ongoing criminal investigation.

In 2002, in the midst of the civil suit, Alite disappeared from Prestige's list of officers.

Scaglione had talked about buying the business from Alite, according to court depositions, but it's unclear if and when the sale occurred.

Alite is not yet represented by counsel in the federal case.

Scaglione, 39, was among the seven charged with racketeering.

The others, aside from Alite, include Ronald J. Trucchio, Steven Catalano, Michael Malone, Kevin M. McMahon and Pasquale J. Andriano. Andriano is the one who pleaded guilty and awaits sentencing.

Scaglione is accused of extortion against other valet companies.

Ostrander said the criminal accusations are baseless and that Scaglione is being attacked for his "famous last name." He is a grandson of Nick Scaglione of the Trafficante crime family.

- Times researchers Cathy Wos and Carolyn Edds contributed to this report.

[Last modified September 16, 2005, 01:35:22]