Taking the Leap From Goodfella to Good Fella

Michael Franzese has been a busy guy, ever since he quit the Mafia.

Just look at everything he’s been up to lately, from his sixth-floor office in Santa Monica.

He organized a rap, rock and rhythm-and-blues concert, with Alcatraz as a backdrop.

(“What a place that had to be to do time,” he says.)

He’s got a film script in development about a mobster trying to go legit, based on himself.

(“If somebody said to me, ‘Hey, I got a great movie called “The Titanic,” I want you to be involved in it,’ I’d say no. If you’re talking about a movie about mob-related events, about organized crime, I’d have to say I’m an expert.”)

He lectures on the evils of gambling, as he did for an FBI video while he was locked up.

(“Your family can get involved. You put them in a compromising position. You think a guy in organized crime, you’re going to be able to pick him out? That the guy’s gonna be wearing a black shirt, a white tie and a pinstriped suit?”)

No. 1 on his list of things to do, Franzese is looking for a property, a headquarters for a youth center he intends to build where L.A. kids can be taught alternatives to crime. That way, maybe they won’t turn out--I hope he won’t mind my saying it--like him.

Young gangsters come to Franzese for advice.

“I have so many of these gangbangers coming up to me now and saying, ‘Mike, how can we get away from our life, without getting into trouble?’

“Hey, just don’t make excuses and say that you CAN’T do it, because I left the biggest gang in the world.”

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I wish I had X-ray eyes. If I could see into Michael Franzese’s heart and soul, I would know: Is this guy on the level? Is he sincere? Or, if I write something he doesn’t like, will I wake up with a horse’s head in my bed?

“You know, I gotta be honest with you,” he says, an irony unto itself, “this is not about redeeming myself. No matter what I do, I can’t erase my past. It’s there. I’m not out there wanting the public to love me.”

Mike, if you have reformed, I’ll love ya to death.

His father is John “Sonny” Franzese, for years one of the Mafia’s top enforcers. Sonny just got released in December, after decades behind bars.

Michael meant to go straight. He went to college. But he also went to the Copacabana, sat ringside, enjoyed a goodfella’s good life. He saw things. He did things.

“Look,” he says, “I made a choice. I lost interest in school. I wanted to help my dad. Nobody twisted my arm.”

A white-collar crook, he made millions through loan-sharking and elaborate swindles. He was a capo in the Colombo crime family, a chief.

Franzese was found guilty of racketeering in 1986. He drew a 10-year sentence and was ordered to pay back $15 million from a billion-dollar tax scam.

In prison, Franzese had time to think. Rashly, he vowed to leave the Mafia, which nobody leaves. A warden at Lompoc called him in just to ask, “You got a death wish?”

Meantime, a Hollywood agent heard about this con who quit the mob. He got word to Franzese that he found the story fascinating. Franzese says he thought to himself, “Maybe I should get into that business.”

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Before being a felon, Michael Franzese was a producer. (Maybe this is redundant.) He backed a break-dancing movie and married one of the dancers, Cammy Garcia, who was from Anaheim.

Then he served seven years in prison.

Now he runs Breaking Out Entertainment Inc., of which he is president. A pay-per-view event, “Breaking Out--The Concert,” was aired in February. Part of the proceeds go, Franzese says, toward a Breaking Out youth center that would help kids find jobs in entertainment and sports.

“I tell people, ‘Listen, when I was part of that life, I can’t even tell you how many friends of mine walked into a room one day and never walked out. Death was part of life back then.

“I got a second chance at life, when a lot of people don’t. Everybody I ran with during my time is either dead or in prison for the rest of their lives. I think I’m the most blessed guy walking the planet.”

He’s lucky he’s still walking it.

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Mike Downey’s column appears Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Readers may write to him at Times-Mirror Square, Los Angeles 90053, or phone (213) 237-7366.