‘Sammy the Bull’ Now ‘Sammy the...

I pointed to my trigger finger. He pinched it. Blood came out. . . . He said honor the oath, that if I divulge any of the secrets of this organization that my soul should burn.

--Salvatore Gravano, on his Mafia initiation

Call him Sammy the Bull’s-Eye.

Salvatore (Sammy the Bull) Gravano is getting out of prison this spring and joining the Witness Protection Program with a new name, a new hometown and a mob-ordered bounty--reportedly worth up to $1 million--on his head.

“You can assume there’s a mob contract on anybody who’s cooperated, especially when they testify against the head of a family,” said Ronald Goldstock, ex-head of the state Organized Crime Task Force.

Gravano did just that--twice--during a series of trials where his testimony produced convictions against 37 former associates. Jailed with Sammy’s help were Colombo family boss Victor Orena and the biggest prize of all--former pal John Gotti, the Dapper Don, the head of the Gambino family empire.

“If John Gotti could get his hands, feet or any other body part on Gravano, he would kill him,” said Howard Abadinsky, president of the International Assn. for the Study of Organized Crime.

“But you cannot achieve the death of Sammy the Bull without the help of Sammy the Bull.”

Translation: If Gravano quietly relocates to an undisclosed location under an assumed name, keeps his surgically altered profile low and follows the rules, survival won’t be a problem.

Jimmy (The Weasel) Fratianno did all that, and died in his sleep at age 79. Philadelphia’s (Crazy Phil) Leonetti, the feds’ top pre-Gravano turncoat, testified against his uncle--brutal killer Nicodemo (Little Nicky) Scarfo--and has lived (so far) within the program.

“If Gravano obeys the rules, he’s likely safe,” Goldstock agreed. “The guys looking for him tend to be parochial. They have no idea where Albuquerque is.”

That’s New Mexico--one of the many places the native New Yorker could end up. Gravano will have some say in his new home, although the final word rests with the U.S. Marshals Service.

If Gravano can’t adjust--and a mob underboss who admits to a role in 19 murders could have trouble in the 9-to-5 world--it won’t be his soul that burns. He could expose himself to mob guns looking to make a name--and a fast fortune.

“In reality, Sammy’s been sentenced to life,” said ex-U.S. Atty. Andrew Maloney, whose office helped turn Gravano. “The rest of his life he’ll be looking over his shoulder.”

Published reports said that Gotti had placed a $1-million cash bounty on the Bull. Gotti loves to talk--his secretly recorded conversations were as damning at his 1992 trial as Gravano--and he rarely minced words when it came to violence.

Wilfred (Willie Boy) Johnson, another family informant, was murdered as a favor to Gotti. Robert DiBernardo was killed because he “don’t agree with us,” Gotti said on government surveillance tapes. Louis DiBono was targeted simply “because he refused to come in when I called.”

Authorities says Gotti is still running the Gambino family from his prison cell in Marion, Ill., using his son, “Junior,” to ferry his orders back to New York. Gotti has nothing to lose by hitting Gravano; he’s already facing life without parole.

And he has plenty of time to think about his former sidekick: Gotti spends 23 hours a day in his cramped cell at the maximum security prison.

The federal Marshals Service, which has handled 6,439 witnesses and 8,079 of their family members since 1971, will now add Gravano to its rolls. No one who followed its strict guidelines has ever been hit, said marshals spokesman Bill Licatovich.

“We’ve never lost an individual in the program who stayed and followed the rules,” he said. “We have had some people go back to where they testified--we call that the ‘danger zone’--that were killed.”

Old neighborhoods are dangerous, but so are old habits. Joseph (The Animal) Barboza, an enforcer who testified against New England crime boss Joseph Patriarca, was bludgeoned to death in 1976 after using his new identity to start a second life of crime.

Barboza, 3,000 miles from home in San Francisco, couldn’t resist the lure of “The Life”--the high-rolling, hard-living world of mob action. Henry (Wiseguy) Hill, after relocating to Redmond, Wash., population 35,800, put it this way: “I get to live the rest of my life like a schnook.”

Hill was booted from the program in 1987 after a cocaine conviction.

“Sammy is not a guy used to living a nice, placid life,” Abadinsky said of Gravano, a millionaire construction boss who once toured Manhattan night life with Gotti.

“He liked the excitement. He liked being in the life. And the fact that he’s taken out of it doesn’t change that personality.”

But merely finding out when Gravano will be (or was) released from prison is a $64,000 question. He was sentenced to five years in prison--a drastic reduction from his original 20-year term. With time off for good behavior, he is eligible for release this spring.

No one--not the FBI, the U.S. attorney, the Bureau of Prisons, or even his attorney--is saying when Sammy will be sprung.

Not that such information would make Gravano an easy mark. Abadinsky offered a word of caution for anyone believing they can get rich quick on Gravano.

“John Gotti may say, ‘Hey, I want this guy hit.’ But who the hell’s going to do it?” he wondered. “Hitting Sammy the Bull is not easy. He’s a dangerous man. And unless he’s very careless, he’s going to stay alive.”