Why have they moved from the grimy Eastern cities to the rolling hills? : A Place Where the Dons Live

I have just learned, apparently months after everyone else, that the area west of us known as Conejo Valley has become the newest home for leaders of organized crime in America, i.e., the Mafia dons. Several of them have settled in and around the communities of Thousand Oaks and Westlake Village, where they have merged into the suburban mainstream without involving themselves in the kinds of activities likely to attract police attention. No broken kneecaps in the neighborhood and no errant Sicilians hanging from meat hooks down at Gelson’s.

But why have they moved from the grimy Eastern cities to the rolling hills and lush valleys of Ventura County, I hear you cry. I have an answer. Because it’s crime-free.

For those who have spent the past 20 years at a missionary outpost in the Mato Grosso, the Mafia is a syndicate of gangsters and killers who involve themselves in the worst vices known to modern society, ranging from narcotics and prostitution to national politics.

Its members are led by a boss of bosses known as the Godfather who looks very much like Marlon Brando and speaks as though he is playing Stanley Kowalski with cotton in his mouth. When his lieutenants, the aforementioned dons, are not leaving a severed horse’s head in someone’s bed as a reminder that his protection payment is 30 days past due, they like to tend their gardens, romp with their little children and throw sticks for their bodyguards to fetch.

Also, they enjoy big family picnics. Well, yes, occasionally a family member is kissed, then snuffed, but it is all done tastefully with a garrote and far enough away from the softball field to avoid intruding on anyone’s good time.

Mafia dons, you see, do not come out in the open as killers or kingpins of vice. No neon signs advertising a numbers game or people in gorilla costumes waving at the passing traffic to attract customers to their cocaine markets.

Instead, they sell olive oil and lease out vending machines, activities which are quite legal, while selling dope and whores and politicians on the side, activities which are only marginally legal.

Through it all, the dons like to live well. Most of them have learned to stop eating from a bowl on the kitchen floor and instead dine with sterling silver flatware off bone china dishes in lavish suburban homes. For instance, in Conejo Valley.

When I read that perhaps 20 Mafia dons live in Ventura County, mostly around Thousand Oaks and Westlake Village, I began to wonder why. A friend of mine suggested it is because the area is considered horse country and therefore has a ready supply of horse’s heads to use in the organization’s somewhat unique system of communications mentioned earlier.

I didn’t buy that explanation, however, so I spent some time talking to Michael Bradbury, who is the district attorney for Ventura County. Bradbury is the one who guessed that the dons have settled where they have because it’s a wholesome place to live.

“Ventura County is the safest area west of Ohio, according to the FBI,” he said, with no small amount of pride. “In the past six years, our crime rate has gone down steadily, due to my policy against plea-bargaining. That must have some appeal to members of organized crime. They won’t get mugged.”

Then he added somewhat less exuberantly: “The irony is not lost on us.”

Bradbury said that investigators are keeping a close eye on the dons “to let them know that we know.” Then: “You don’t eliminate their kind of activity, though. You displace it.”

The displacement, he suggested, has been toward Los Angeles County, where apparently they do not let them know that they know quite as effectively as they do in Ventura County.

The president of the Conejo Valley Chamber of Commerce, whose name is Stephen Rubenstein, told me later that Thousand Oaks itself has one of the lowest crime rates of any city in the country with populations of over 50,000.

“We haven’t even had a murder in three years,” he said cheerfully. “No, make that four years.” Done.

Rubenstein, who once owned the local House of Pancakes, has no personal knowledge of any syndicate bosses’ residing in his area. “That’s one business that doesn’t join the chamber,” he said. “They do their own promoting.”

Then he went on to list the advantages of living in Conejo Valley: lack of congestion, excellent air quality, a high standard of living, proximity to the Ventura Marina and homes in the $1.5 million range.

Also, since Mafia dons like to involve themselves in community activities, the Valley offers everything from an African Violet Club to an organization especially for mothers of twins and triplets.

It is all clear to me now why the cream of the Cosa Nostra has settled there. They want the best for their sainted wives and their little donlets, and Conejo Valley offers just that.

Perhaps someday the mere fact that a leading Mafioso has moved into an area will be advertised in a manner reminiscent of restaurants that once boasted truck drivers ate there.

Welcome to Thousand Oaks, Where the Dons Live. A guarantee of quality.