SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY
Castro had lived up to his end of the bargain.
Clifton instructed the Cubans to detain Trafficante until he arrived, armed with a New York County District Attorney Office subpoena from the Anastasia murder case.
When Clifton arrived, he said Trafficante “wasn’t dressed all fashionable like he normally was. His pants were short to the top of his shoes. His cuffs were also short, and he wore a ratty shirt and shoes. It looked like they dressed him as poorly as possible to make him look bad. I barely recognized him. I looked him up and down and said, ‘I’m Captain Clifton with the Hillsborough County Sheriff’s Office,’ and he said, ‘Clifton, you son of a bitch, you’ve been hounding my ass ever since I first saw you as a reporter.’ I let him rave, but I said, ‘The bottom line is, if you show your face on the street, we have a court order to arrest you every time we see you.’ He raved on for a bit again, and we chatted back and forth, and I said, ‘I won’t arrest you today. I’ll let you go,’ because his attorney wasn’t there, contrary to Ragano’s book and all his bullshit. Ragano didn’t help get the guy at all. Santo said so! So as I started out the door, I looked back to Santo and asked him, ‘How’d you get out.’ And he said, ‘I gave him $3 million.’ That’s why I stayed so long because I wouldn’t give them the money, and they only kept me alive because they wanted the money. They’re bigger crooks than we are.'”
In the morning, Clifton said he learned that the New York County District Attorney’s Office had canceled the subpoena. Ragano then went down to the Hillsborough County Courthouse and filed a writ of habeas corpus, claiming Clifton and the Hillsborough County Sheriff’s Office were harassing Trafficante. Clifton said the court order meant he could not arrest Trafficante.
“But it wasn’t in the law that I couldn’t follow him from 300 feet away. So I put a 24-hour tail on him,” said Clifton. “If he went to the Columbia Restaurant, I had two or three men on him. If he went home, I had men on him. So he couldn’t go anywhere and conduct business in that environment.”
Clifton said that, in time, Trafficante was tired of the constant surveillance, not only because it took away his privacy but also because he couldn’t run his criminal organization with police nearby at all times. So, Clifton explained, Trafficante began spending most of his time in Miami. And most importantly, he described a safe haven in Cuba, and Trafficante’s criminal organization began to lose power.
Why did he tell me the secret?
A week before interviewing Clifton for the Charlie Wall Documentary, my brother and I joined him and Ace Atkins for beers at King Corona in Ybor City. Before Clifton allowed us to film his stories, he wanted to get to know us. After about two beers and an hour of conversation, he warmed to us and began to open his vault a bit, explaining to us that no matter what anyone thinks of Castro’s politics, he was one of the most critical factors that led to the downfall of the American Mafia, as mob leaders in cities across the nation found it as impossible as Trafficante did to run their criminal organizations in the same manner as they did in Cuba.
Clifton said that the mafia has not been nor will ever be as powerful as it was in its heyday from the 1920s through the 1950s (when they were allowed to operate in Cuba) because Castro took away their haven.
The details of the Sheriff’s Office’s deal with Castro may never be known. But, whatever the deal was, it worked. You may disagree with the tactic, but it was effective.
Why did Clifton tell me this secret on film? Why, after telling no one close to him for half a century, did he finally decide to divulge it, only to refuse to say more just moments later? Unfortunately, that may never be known. But, the details of the deal can still be learned. Maybe someone is still alive who knows. And, hopefully, that someone is reading this article and, like Clifton, is ready to tell the secret. If so, I am prepared to listen.
Paul Guzzo is a reporter for the Tampa Bay Times. He found the lost segregation-era all-black Zion Cemetery. His unique beat also includes the local film industry, Tampa history, professional wrestling, and the odd and unique people who make up this area. Guzzo has been a journalist in Tampa since 1999, including a senior writer for Cigar City Magazine and Tampa Mafia Magazine. In his younger years, he was an independent filmmaker best known for an award-winning documentary on Charlie Wall, Tampa’s first crime lord.
