Also this issue: Flame On! A monument to Revolutionary War heroes extinguished for years will burn again. -Deborah Bolling Gale Warning No Love In Bloom -Daryl Gale Meet The New Boss Inky looking for better days under Amanda Bennett. -Deborah Bolling Cheesy | Barring None? | This and That -Mary F. Patel The Bell Curve City Paper's weekly gauge of Philly's Quality of Life

June 5-11, 2003

city beat

Mob Queen Latin Kings

Natale Attraction: Ruthann Seccio is still stuck on a former mobster.

As a former Mafia mistress pursues her old flame, lawmen turn their attention to Latin gangs.

by Brendan McGarvey

She came to the half-empty federal courtroom in Camden hoping to lay her eyes on a former lover who vanished into the U.S. Marshals’ Witness Security Program four long years ago. Love affairs with some mobsters never die.

"The last time I heard from Ralph," recalls Ruthann Seccio, Mafia mistress to former Philadelphia La Cosa Nostra kingpin Ralph Natale, "he called me and said, ŒI love you. I miss you. I'll call you when I get to the next phone.'"

That was in 1999, around the time Natale was whisked away by the feds, and Seccio still doesn't know exactly why the former crime boss discarded the mob's code of silence. She's also left wondering why he hasn't since tried to contact her.

The last time they saw one another, also in a courtroom, was when Natale testified in former Camden Mayor Milton Milan's corruption trial. From the stand, all he could do was gaze at his former lover, who returned his looks. They wore matching jewelry and a friend of Seccio's who was there that day says the pair exchanged hand signals to express their undying love.

Natale, the highest ranking mob turncoat ever, was back in court last week to testify against former Camden City Council President James Mathes Jr. and South Jersey businessman Danny Daidone. Both Mathes and Daidone stand charged of trying to steer city contracts to the mob. (In a past life, Daidone and Natale were friends. Natale has testified that he was using Daidone to get city contracts through Mathis.)

Last Wednesday, John Terry, supervisor of the FBI's organized-crime squad, found Seccio nervously waiting in a chilly foyer outside the courtroom. The G-man introduced himself and the two spoke, conversationally sizing one another up. (Recalling the conversation, Seccio tells City Paper she figured Terry would almost certainly tell Natale of their chat.)

A passerby would have seen a 30-something blonde -- pretty but a little hard looking -- dressed in stylish slacks, expensive high heels and an almost-transparent white blouse flirting with a fit, good-looking 40-something man in a well-cut suit.

Terry seemed genuinely concerned that Seccio remained stuck on Natale but looked as if he didn't really want her at the trial. Seccio thinks prosecutors want her out of sight since her mere presence contradicts their stance that Natale flipped so he could become a better family man for his wife and children. Any mention of -- let alone an appearance by -- a mistress would obviously complicate that spin.

As Seccio and Terry discussed the screenplay a Hollywood director is writing about her life, the fed teasingly asked who'd portray the couple on the big screen. She didn't know who'd play her, but suggested Sean Connery or Kevin Spacey for the Natale role. Seccio then asked the movie-star handsome Terry who should play him. (Terry, who was among the agents who spent months debriefing Natale when he joined Team America and the Department of Justice in 1999, laughed it off.)

After exchanging those pleasantries, Terry turned serious and asked Seccio why she was there.

"I still have questions for Ralph and I want answers. I want to know why he left me out here and why he promised that we would have a life together," she answered, her voice choking with emotion. "We were going to get married, have children and live happily ever after."

Terry urged Seccio to move on. She should be dating, he said, thinking about finding a suitable husband and starting a family in a new place away from Philadelphia, her memories and some dangerous people who might exact revenge on Natale through her. Terry's words didn't drive her away, though.

When Natale finally took the stand last Thursday, he looked tanned and healthy in his dark suit and lavender crew-neck cashmere sweater. In a deep voice, he described his life of crime for the jury. Natale recounted gunning down an Irish mob hit man along with the Christmas 1973 murder of organized-crime rival Joey McGreal, who was found dead in his Cadillac in South Jersey.

Natale testified that when he and McGreal, his daughter's godfather, pulled into a parking lot outside an empty restaurant, the soon-to-be victim suddenly realized something was amiss.

"He said, ŒWhat's wrong?' and I shot him three times in the back of the head," Natale said of the murder that jump-started a war for control of a South Jersey bartenders union.

The vivid recollection of violence didn't shake Seccio as she and Natale stared at one another throughout his testimony, which lasted more than four hours.

"I know he was glad to see me. I just wish I knew everything he was thinking," Seccio later confided. "I wish I could read his mind."

Not far from the scene of the Mafia lovers’ reunion, Camden police have been on the lookout for members of the Latin Kings gang. Of late, they’ve seen a number of young Hispanic men sporting the telltale black-and-gold clothing, yellow bandannas and tattoos that speak to their illicit affiliation.

According to local lawmen, the group's seeking new members for the Almighty Latin Kings and Queens Nation, a recruiting drive that worries cops because there are already more than 50,000 members in New Jersey. Most of them operate around Newark and other North Jersey cities, but closer to home, Gloucester County police are looking for a group of Mexican migrant farm workers suspected of performing a number of violent home invasions.

Formed 50 years ago in Chicago, the gang has "tribes" scattered throughout the country and Puerto Rico. With a website that preaches honor, respect and love, they claim to be a self-help organization for wayward Hispanics with a philosophy that merges ancient Incan phrases with a modern, macho street creed. (That creed includes a specialized hit squad to handle disciplinary cases internally.)

Police, however, say the Kings are more about peddling dope than establishing support groups -- and they're working to expand. Although their membership is primarily Hispanic, the Kings have started recruiting blacks, whites and Asians in prisons. Already, they've had some success in diversifying.

One Philadelphia mafia associate joined the Kings in the Pennsylvania federal prison where he's serving life for murder. Sporting Latin Kings tattoos on his left arm, he claims affiliation with both groups today.