Johnny 'Pops' lived his life
like Hollywood gangster film

By Adrian Humphreys \ Ottawa Citizens

It's March 21, 1961 and Johnny "Pops'' Papalia wants in. At
stake is millions of dollars in gambling profits from the last major
independent crime organization in Ontario -- and so far, owner Max
Bluestein has stood his ground against strong mafia pressure.
A pow wow is planned at the popular Town Tavern, in the heart of
downtown Toronto, between Mr. Bluestein and Mr. Papalia.
It's no secret that Mr. Papalia has pegged tonight as a
make-or-break day for Mr. Bluestein. About 100 tavern patrons
anxiously wait for a show.
The two men sit with their friends at separate tables. Eventually,
Mr. Papalia sends a waiter with a drink to Mr. Bluestein's table.
Mr. Bluestein waves off the drink -- symbolically denying Mr.
Papalia a piece of his operation.
Retribution is swift.
A merciless beating of Mr. Bluestein follows. Brass knuckles, iron
bars and bats fly. Mr. Bluestein is beaten nearly to death. A broken
bottle stuffed in his mouth.
When police arrive, the 100 people present claim to have seen
nothing. Even Mr. Bluestein didn't complain.
Fear can be fierce motivation.
It reads like a key scene from a fine Mafia film. But it's a true
story from the life of Johnny Pops. It was a deciding moment in his
life.
Few Canadians have lived a life that is so Hollywood, so filmable.
Mr. Papalia seems a movie script wrapped in flesh and muscle.
Heavy on the muscle.
Mr. Papalia earned the nickname "The Enforcer'' from his
reputation for violence and ruthlessness and became a lead character
in the real-life drama that is Hamilton's -- and the country's --
mob history.
"In every corner of Hamilton, his influence was noticed and his
presence was felt -- even if he wasn't around,'' says Antonio
Nicaso, an organized crime watcher and author of nine books on the
subject.
"For 50 years he was the most powerful boss in Ontario. Everyone
had to respect him; everyone had to deal with him.
"Until yesterday, (the mob boss) in Montreal and Mr. Papalia in
Hamilton were the two most powerful bosses in Canada. He was like an
untouchable person. He was strong and powerful and (his murder) is a
surprise.
"Papalia represented an era in the underworld. And his death
signals the end of that era. His death has the same intensity as an
earthquake of nine on the Richter Scale.''
And the epicentre of that quake is clearly Railway Street, a stubby
Hamilton street of old, red brick houses.
It's the street where Mr. Papalia was born in 1924. And where he
died Saturday afternoon.
A street where intrigue goes back to the start of the century.
It's the street where Johnny Papalia's father, Antonio, settled
after emigrating to Canada from Italy in 1900.
And the street where Antonio started working for the infamous Rocco
Perri -- who for a decade during Prohibition was the ``king of the
bootleggers,'' in Southern Ontario.
Boastful, flashy and dangerous, Perri set the pace for running
illegal booze between Canada and the U.S. throughout the 1920s and
is now an icon of the flamboyant, formative years of organized
crime.
But Mr. Perri's mysterious disappearance in 1944 signalled a change
in style for organized crime, ushering in the era of the strict
Italian Mafia, which ran along firm blood-lines of family
relationships and trusted, long-time friends.
It was a change that eventually brought Mr. Papalia to prominence.
Antonio Papalia took a piece of Mr. Perri's action. Along with two
other local mob figures, he formed an association with the
Magaddinos, a powerful Buffalo crime family.
Johnny Pops would take what his father started and build it into an
empire that extended throughout Ontario.
Johnny Pops Papalia grew up on Railway Street with his five
brothers and one sister.
"He was born into s world of respect, tradition, and honor'' says Mr. Nicaso.
"He dropped out of school in Grade 8, but was known later in life
for playing a decent game of chess and reading the New York Times
everyday."
As a teen, Johnny Pops dabbled in theft, bootlegging and break and
enters. At 25, Mr. Papalia was arrested near Union Station in
Toronto for selling heroin. He was sentenced to two years less a
day.
When released from Guelph Reformatory in 1951, he headed straight
to Montreal. In 1955, he came back to Hamilton and using friendships
and contacts he had made across Canada, became "The Enforcer.''
The city's -- and then the province's -- organized criminal
activities fell under Mr. Papalia's domination.
One by one the independent organizations across Ontario fell to Mr.
Papalia. Even Mr. Bluestein buckled under after his savage beating.
Mr. Papalia also started legitimate business -- such as Monarch
Vending Machines, operating on Railway Street.
By 1959, Mr. Papalia's influence could be felt on both sides of the
border. He was a key figure in the infamous "French Connection,''
an enormous, international heroin smuggling ring smashed in 1961.
Named because it moved heroin through a French port on its way to
Canada, the ring later became the focus of a book and a movie of the
same name. Robert Kennedy, then the U.S. attorney general,
personally trumpeted the bust.
At the age of 38, Mr. Papalia was sentenced to 10 years in an
American prison for his role in the French Connection. He served
less than five years after convincing authorities he was sick.
But apparently not too sick.
In 1975, Mr. Papalia, along with Vic Cotroni and Paolo Violi, who
were leaders of the Montreal mafia, were arrested and charged with
conspiracy to obtain $300,000 by the commission of an indictable
offense. Mr. Papalia, who was found guilty, was sentenced to six
years but Mr. Violi and Mr. Cotroni had the charges dismissed on
appeal.
Mr. Violi was shot dead, execution-style, in 1978. Mr. Papalia was
released in October 1980.
The life of Johnny Pops often made headlines. Beatings, arrests,
drug deals, high-level involvement for decades in La Cosa Nostra,
the traditional organized crime families.
But for years, now, the spotlight has been dim.
Papalia became a spectre. A name dropped when big-city crime came
up at cocktail parties, bars, newsrooms and lunch rooms.
Many people throughout the city have quiet stories of talking to
Mr. Papalia in bakeries or visits at a yacht club. This was Mr.
Papalia at peace.
"He certainly maintained a low profile,'' says one police
detective who spent years chasing Mr. Papalia.
But that's the best way for an aging don to stay, says Mr. Nicaso.
"The true boss of the Mafia, of La Cosa Nostra, keeps a low
profile like Johnny Pops. The boss of some age keeps a low profile.
"He could move to Toronto and be the boss there, but he never did.
He decided to stay in Hamilton and to keep a low profile and to stay
on the same street,'' Mr. Nicaso says.
But quiet doesn't mean inactive.
Lee Lamothe, another keen mob-watcher and former newspaper
reporter, says Mr. Papalia kept his fingers on the power, and a
toehold in the Toronto rackets. Rumours abound of Mr. Papalia being
involved in the murders of Toronto mobsters Paul Volpe in 1983, and
Enio Mora in 1996. But there were never any charges.
"He was still powerful and influential. He makes money. All his
people make money. He's an `earner,' in mob lingo. He had a lot of
investments with front guys doing real estate deals for him,'' says
Mr. Lamothe.
"He wasn't retired.''
Mr. Papalia's organization is international with strong ties in the
U.S., Canada, Italy and Australia.
In fact, word of Mr. Papalia's murder this weekend made the news in
Italy, where he still has relatives and contacts.
Says author James Dubro: "Next to Rocco Perri who was the most
flamboyant, colourful and powerful gangster in Canadian history,
John Papalia was a close second.''
Mr. Papalia's funeral will be a crucial moment in Hamilton mob
history. It is expected to be larger than that of Hamilton mobster
Dominic Musitano, who died of a heart attack in 1995.
It's also expected to attract more of an international who's who of
mafia life.
"It will be important to see how many people come to pay respect
for Papalia,'' says Mr. Nicaso.
Visitors are expected from Italy, Montreal, Toronto, and the United
States. The top brass likely won't show their faces at the funeral,
but respectful visits will be paid, he says.
It shouldn't seem strange that the life of someone who loomed so
large in the criminal underworld should be judged on the size and
spectacle of his funeral.

June 2, 1997