October 7-13, 2004

city beat

Ali Bye-Bye

The imam's wife predicts prison time and a mobster's laid to rest.

by Brendan McGarvey

After being indicted last week, Faridah Ali, wife of prominent Muslim cleric and Mayor Street political ally Imam Shamsud-din Ali, had a message for her friends.

"I'm innocent," said Ali upon being rung up on charges for the second time in less than two months, "but I'm convinced I'm going to prison."

The Alis are charged with racketeering and other offenses for allegedly using the Sister Clara Muhammad School, a West Philadelphia private school they operate, to grease public officials and line their own pockets. Officials say the Alis also used other businesses, including their Germantown financial services company, to do the same. Five other people were also indicted.

Faridah, who's out on $50,000 bail, says she fears that her Muslim religion and garb will make it impossible for a federal jury to judge her fairly because of prejudice against Muslims since the 9/11 attacks. But like many other Americans, Faridah has her own 9/11 story.

At the time of the attacks, Faridah's daughter Kiki was living just a few blocks from the World Trade Center. Watching the news coverage of jets smashing into the towers, Faridah anxiously dialed her daughter's cell phone and coaxed her out of her apartment. She told her daughter to cover her face with a wet towel and make a dash through thick clouds of dust and debris as the towers collapsed. Faridah says her daughter walked many blocks from Wall Street before she was picked up and driven to safety by her friend Ice T, the rapper-turned-actor who stars on the Law & Order television series.

Celebrities are nothing new in the Alis' lives. Over the years, Faridah says she's gotten to know a number of prominent African-Americans. It started when she worked at WDAS radio where part of her job, she says, was to escort folks like the Jackson Five and Smokey Robinson to City Hall ceremonies or professional sporting events. The Alis claim to know everyone from Muhammad Ali to Will and Jada Smith.

Photos inside their Elkins Park mansion show the Alis standing with famous people. In one, the imam shakes hands with President Bill Clinton while Street stands alongside, smiling. In another, Faridah stands between a smiling Clinton and a beaming Street. Faridah, 55, has told friends she can't decide whether she wants celebrity friends to testify as character witnesses at trial. She says she's unsure whether she even wants them to show up in the courtroom gallery.

"Look what happened with Martha Stewart," she says. "Movie and TV stars came to court to support her and it backfired. I think the jury thought it was arrogant and helped turn them against her."

Through it all, Faridah maintains her innocence.

"I'm looking at what, 600 years?" she asked. "I don't want to go to prison but the government is already draining our finances and hurting our school. How much can one family take?"

The Buck Stopped

Anthony "Tony Buck" Piccolo would have been released from prison next summer. But the ailing 82-year-old old-school mobster never got to walk out from Devens Federal Medical Center in Massachusetts. He died Aug. 30.

Piccolo grew up in South Philly, a gentleman who kept a low profile. His three uncles, all mafiosos, ran the 500 Club at 11th and Christian streets, a longtime mob meeting place. Piccolo was also a cousin of homicidal mob boss Nicky Scarfo and took over as acting boss when Scarfo went to jail.

Unfortunately for Piccolo, a North Jersey wiseguy-turned-informant wore a wire to a La Cosa Nostra initiation ceremony over which Piccolo presided. Piccolo was convicted of racketeering in 1988. Sentenced to 45 years in prison, he'd been behind bars since 1994. His sentence was later reduced to 13 years because of his poor health.

Considering Piccolo's pre-imprisonment stature, members of the organized crime squads of the Philadelphia police and the New Jersey state police departments expected a large turnout of reputed wiseguys for his viewing at Broad Street's Pennsylvania Burial Co. on Sept. 4. They were disappointed.

"He went to jail and kept his mouth shut. That used to mean something. But most of the current generation of gangsters are too busy making money to show up to pay their respects," said one investigator. "It's another break with tradition and shows you just how much the mob has gone downhill, disrespecting its own."

A few people of notice did attend the viewing in South Philly, among them a former driver for imprisoned boss John Stanfa, and Vincent Filipelli, a former professional bodybuilder who served time for extortion. Joseph Ciancaglini Jr., walking with a cane and equipped with a hearing aid, was also there. Stanfa's onetime underboss, he was severly disabled in a mob ambush during the Joey Merlino-Stanfa wars in the 1990s. Also at the viewing was Salvatore Avena, a former Stanfa lawyer who was acquitted of racketeering charges in 1996.