azsurvivors.com Arizona advertising and media veterans history site. Joe Patrick's Column

In the days of "Shoot 'Em Up" western movies, the good guys wore white hatsthe bad guys always wore black. This is the true story of two Arizona men, one wore a white hat, one wore black.

The world knows Barry Morris Goldwater wore a white hat. Nathan K. Waxman (AKA Ned Warren the Godfather of land fraud) wore black. Both men called Arizona home. Both were very intelligent, but when they came to the split in the road, Barry took the road that led to "Good" while Ned took the road to "Bad."

First the."Good".

Barry Goldwater was such an unruly kid with his peers, like Jack Williams (who was a Mayor and later Governor of Arizona), Paul Fannin (later a U.S. Senator), and Harry Rozenswieg (Phoenix City Council and head of the Arizona G.O.P.), that Goldwater's mom "Mun" sent young Barry to a military academy in Virginia. She had no idea what she started! At Staunton Military Academy Goldwater's grades were good. He was a football player, was on the swim team, and made Cadet Lieutenant.

While attending the University of Arizona for one year before coming home to Phoenix to run the family mercantile business

World War II broke out. Young Barry joined the Army Reserve.

Due to his flying ability (he received his pilot's license in 1928) he was commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant and "Ferry Pilot" and was sent to the brand new Luke Army Air Field west of Glendale. While at Luke as a "Ferry Pilot" (a WWII innovation that allowed those with the letter "E" on their wings to ferry planes that others would fly in combat) the 2nd Lt. built up his flying time in high horsepower war birds. A good photographer, Barry would take photos of regular pilots in return for flying time. After accruing enough high horsepower time, he was able to swap his "Ferry Pilot" wings for regular pilot wings.. Barry went on to fly C-47S and C-46's over the "Hump" from India to China.

After WWII he joined a very exclusive club with only one other member. He and the late Jimmy Doolittle are the only high ranking men in the USAF to have never gone through a military flight school!

In early 1962 Barry and JFK made an agreement. They would travel on the same train making a "Whistle Stop" political tour of the U.S. in the Presidential Campaign of 1964. Obviously here were two honorable men in the nether world of politics.

But events in Dallas changed the plans. Now Barry would run against a man he despisedLyndon Johnson. After being soundly defeated, Barry's only comment was "I should have known better than getting into a peeing contest with a skunk!"

After over 30 years' service in the U.S. Senate he came back to his beloved Arizona.

Now the "Bad"

Nathan K. Waxman was known in Arizona as Ned Warren, Land Sales (fraudulent sales) King. Ned Warren was not a crime Godfather in the tradition of the late Joe Bonanno of Tucson, but he was a master of fraudulent land sales. Quite often, under his tutorage, the same piece of land was sold to 5 buyers! In his words, "They should make me Arizona Land Commissioner. I'm the one man who could run the system..honestly."

Before, long before, coming to Arizona, the ways of Ned Warren should have been known to investigators. His first brush with the law was hiding assets in bankruptcy. Recovering from a heart attack, Nate Waxman (AKA Ned Warren) decided to make money while recuperating in his king size round bed. He bought a bale of hay, stuffed a few ounces of hay in a shoe box, and sold the box of regular hay for $5.00 as special chinchilla hay. The response was so good that he started selling rejected vitamin pills for $25.00 a pop. From this scam he took in an IRS unreported One Million Dollars!

Moving to the very fertile Arizona land biz, the first thing was to fit in. Purchasing a very good hunting rifle, he took a folding chair (for comfort) and sat along side a highway sign that read "Deer Crossing" and waited for a deer. By his own recollection, "Not one crossed the road!"

Ned Warren was a professional when it came to the many psychological ways to sell illegal gotten land. For instance.he noted that one of his Manager/Salesman was very short in statue. He ordered the Manager to build a high platform to set his chair on. That way the man could look down on prospective land buyers, thereby giving the man a greater psychological advantage in his sales pitch.

Ned showed interest in the small nuances of sales. He even ordered his sales staff to whisper when showing a 100 X 100 foot lot. Here's how the whisper technique workedthe land salesman would place the prospective buyer in one corner of the lot. The salesman then ran to another corner and would whisper the client's name. He would then run back saying "Seethis piece of land is so big you could barely hear me shouting!"

While Ned Warren was not a Don or Godfather of the Joe Bonanno Mafia type, he most assuredly was the king of "White Collar" crime related to land fraud.

Bonanno, born in Corelone, Sicily, headed one of the five "Family's" that ruled New York City crime, Re: "Murder Incorporated." While Ned Warren ruled illegal land sales in the State of Arizona where only 11% of the land was privately owned. That 11% put untold millions of dollars in Ned's deep pockets.

He became so incensed when a reporter with the Arizona Republic wrote a false story that Warren had $100,000 under his carpet in his family digs on Camelback Mountain that Ned had the wall-to-wall white carpet ripped up and replaced with an imported wood parquet floor with the words "Now we'll see how much money I can hideunder a wood floor!"

In one face-to-face meeting he told this writer, "I'm not worried about judges. I've got good lawyers. I'm not worried about the law. I can buy the law. I have only one worry Joe Patrick. I can't buy you!"

My answer? "You're right, Ned. I'll see you in jail." And that's where he died.

Barry Goldwater left the traffic pattern of life in May 1998 with streets, schools, the Air Force Academy Visitor Center, even a gunnery range (the largest on the planet) named for him.

While Ned Warren most certainly was a Charlaton and crook, he did leave some Arizona landmarks. Few people know it now, but his land sales started some of today's better known communitiescommunities like Prescott Valley, Cordes Lakes, and Beaver Valley.

The true story of hat color one White ..one Black.

JOE BONANNO OF TUCSON

By Joe Patrick

Joseph Bonanno was born in the Sicilian town of Coreleone in the latter part of the 19th Century. Son Salvatore (Bill) claims the wildly successful book, and later the motion picture "The Godfather" was based on Mafia exploits of his dad.

Author Mario Puzo has said "No.the exploits of Mafia "Don" Coreleon in the movie and the book were based on an amalgamation of several Mafia leaders. None the less, the tale of bloodshed and mayhem left in the wake of the Bonanno family, both real and "crime family" is very interesting.

It's a long way both time-wise and mile-wise from a town in Sicily to Tucson, Arizona..a trip that took a lifetime for Godfather Joe "Bananas: Bonanno. Through television and movies the world is well acquainted with organized crime whether it be "La Costa Nostra" or Mafia and how organized crime ruled in the big cities in the Eastern parts of the nation.

Joe Bonanno (who passed away 2 years ago at age 94) was one of the 5 "Crime Families" that ruled New York City long before "The Teflon Don" John Gotti came on the scene. That rule was punctuated by violence and death. But for our purposes here we are only interested in Arizona happenings, and they are plentiful!

First Tucson memories

The first totally nude show as in the Old Pueblo, and any reporter worth his salt would cover such a story. Right? So, I packed my toothbrush, and with cameraman Sonny Stires, drove the 2 hours to the first Arizona Capitol city.

Knowing Sonny's proclivity for females (especially nude ones) I told Sonny what to do (and not do) when time to film the interview. "Shoot from the knees down as the young lady approachesand only her head during the actual interview."

The Nudie show took place in a shoddy bar on Speedway. It was called appropriately "The Oarhouse" (a name not to be confused with a house full of Fallen Doves). The bar was crowded on this Friday night. Even with the large crowd of male revelers, the Manager said Louise was ready for the interview right after the first show (there were 3..the last just before closing time at 2:00am.

The interview was going well despite whistles and catcalls when a noise, loud enough to cause total silence, rang loud and clear. Sonny had fallen backwards into a table knocking glasses and dishes to the floor.

As Louise (if that was her name) came down the walkway, Sonny decided to shoot some film that would be good at stag shows. He was so intent on exposing film from the neck down, plus being a little dizzy from free drinks from the Manager, he lost his balance while zooming in for a close-up of mammary glands and fell over backwards.

There's got to be a moral to this story!

The City of Tucson (described by Ned Warren as "Economically a graveyard with lights") went a little dingy when a rogue FBI Agent started hurling homemade bombs. He even blew up a back wall at Joe Bonanno's house on Oak Street. So while FBI Director J Edgar Hoover was cross-dressing, the Mafia was looking for someone who tried to "Hit" a Mafia "Don."

Go Figure! The man was finally arrested..in Florida!

There were two, count 'em..two, Mafia Kingpins in Tucson! Joe Bonanno and Pete Licavoli. Pete had been head of one of the most infamous organizations in the country, "The Purple Gang."

While both men were in Tucson to retire (one never really retires from the Mafia), these two senior citizens were fiercely competitiveso much so that they both opened a legitimate business. Licavoli opened the "Jesters Court Bar & Restaurant" while Bonanno opened "Baron's Fine Foods."

Before: How a TV Reporter became a "Food Critic"..the Bonanno "Family Profile."

Giuseppe "Joe" Bonanno was an instinct born "Godfather." But after the New York City crime wars and after his many months' long "kidnapping", he sought the quiet of his modest home on Oak Street in Tucson.

Where the Bonanno home once stood is now the site of the largest hospital complex in the Old Pueblo.the University Medical Center (U.M.C.). Few people knew there was a shotgun rack right by the door of that modest home guarded by long-time Bonanno bodyguard, and Capo" Paul Trambino.

A long time effort by law enforcement agencies, including the "Feebe"FBI, failed to turn up any evidence that Godfather Joe was doing any biz in Tucson that could be construed as illegal. Not the same thing, however, could be said of sons "Bill" (Salvatori) or Joe, Jr.

Godfather Joe passed his "retirement" time in a most prosaic mannerwatching TV. On Friday nights he spent an enjoyable evening playing poker. When poker pal, Bishop Green, head of the Tucson Diocese, ran out of funds, he would go to the "Poor Box" to replenish his poke. On Saturday evening he would walk the aisles in the Sears Garden Department admiring lawn tractors and riding lawn mowers. Every week day he would leave through his back gate to have lunch at the Italian restaurant in the strip mall immediately behind the modest home.

Years later he wrote the book A Man of Honor. Obviously he was not the modern day hood like John Gotti or his enforcer.

When Bill Bonanno moved to Phoenix he found that Phoenix Law Agencies were a lot less forgiving than their counter parts in Tucson.

But that's another story.

Now.How a TV Newsman became a Food Critic!

First we evaluated Licavoli's "Jester's Court."

Cameraman-Producer Don made one"small" error filming the free-form bar. Behind the bar was glassbehind the glass a cage containing black leopards. One was a small female that could squeeze through the cage bars.

Don placed the 2 quartz-mercury lights much too close to the glass creating a hole about 5 inches in diameter. The small female black leopard saw her chance for a life sans bars and ran to the hole. While Don kept her from making the hole larger by holding the light in her face, I was scampering for safety with the words "If she gets out, she owns this bar.'cause I'll be in the men's room.with the door locked!"

The leopards were lured back to their individual cages with raw beef. But, the reprieve was short. A busboy coming to work let the notorious predators out of their individual cages to the communal area. The female headed straight for the hole. Three drunks, two males and one female, were so impressed that the female extended her hand to pet Ms. Ferocious" saying, "Nice Kitty, come to Mama." The larger than life feline warned the intoxicated woman in her own waya snarl, actually a deep-throated growl.

Insurance cover the glass ($500.00). An expensive interview!

Joe Bonanno owned "Baron's" was next. The food and drink were excellent. The ambience could only be described as "Quiet and Elegant". Only one thing marred the experience. A drunken teacher from Sierra Vista demanded to see Mr. Bonanno.

MoralSome Mafia "Dons" know right from wrong, in spite of bloody hands. And NEVER, EVER, enter a bar with cats!

A PERSONAL HERO

On that Black Wall in Washington is the nameLance P Sijan (pronounced Sigh-John). Beside the name is a cross. The cross denotes he received the highest award a grateful nation can give to a member of the militaryThe Congressional Medal of Honor. Over three million Americans served in Vietnam. Only 238 Medals of Honor were awarded. Lance Sijan got one of them. His bloody and very painful odyssey should be recognized. To this day Lance Sijan is the only Air Force Academy Grad to receive the MOH.

Lance had just returned from R & R (Rest and Relaxation) in Hong Kong with his girl friend. This was his first foray into combat since his return. To check his proficiency he would fly as GIB (Guy in Back) to Lieutenant Colonel John Armstrong in the "Smoker" F-4 target for the bombs at a place called Ban Loboy Ford as part of "Operation Steel Tiger" along the convoluted Ho Chi Minh Trail.

Not liking his first run to the target Armstrong told Nail II he would still aim at the smoke FAC (Forward Air Controller) Nail II had laid on the target with a white phosphorous rocket. It was on this second bomb run that everything went to Hell. Because North Vietnamese anti-aircraft gunners got the range all they had to do was point their 37mm gun and shoot.

Run into the target had just started when virtuously three things happenedsimultaneously. Armstrong was killed, defective bomb fuses detonated only seconds after release, and Sijan pulled the ejection seat mechanism.

Sijan only swung once in his chute before crashing into the triple thick canopy of the Laotian jungle with tree limbs ripping at his body. He lost his survival kit before those trees also took the parachute canopy, and he plummeted 100 feet to the ground.

On that first night he sat with his back against a tree going in and out of consciousness, knowing he could not check his wounds till first light.

When he first came to what he saw made him gag. Three fingers on his right hand were bent back so far the three digits pointed to his wrist. His left leg below the knee showed a compound double fracture with the broken bone protruding through the skin. A trail of blood, now congealing, showed where he had dragged his body to the tree when he impacted the earth last night and was a bountiful harvest for an ant colony.

His flight suit was soaked in blood from the wound that bothered him most. With gingerly searching fingers he found the "quarter-sized" hole above his left ear that was the source of a brain concussion.

Using his "G" suit, he wrapped the chap affair around the leg for a make-shift splint. Through experimentation, Sijan learned he could sip water from the baby bottle on his vest by placing the bottle under his left arm and enduring a maelstrom of pain. He could use the thumb and forefinger of the injured right hand to twist off the cap. The effort sent bolts of pain through his body, but he rejoiced in the small victory over pain. He still had his RT-10 Sar (Search & Rescue) radio, if it worked. If not, he had spare batteriesif they worked.

Lance leaned back against the tree and looked skyward. The more he thought about the NVA the greater the number of "If's" paraded by followed by a phalanx of "should'a, could'a, & would'a". But he was quick to sop feeling sorry for himself and started making plans to escape and evade.

He knew several things in his favor had already occurred. AWOL 1 had turned his transponder (aerial radar) to "Emergency". That caused a bright blip to show up on radar screens all over South Vietnam.. FAC Nail II had verbally told the search and rescue, C-130 "Crown", what had happened; and "Crown" had in turn notified search and rescue headquarters at Tan Son Nhut Air Base near Saigon (now Ho Chi Minh City).

As the Asian sun grew higher in the sky, he heard the un-mistakable sounds of a helicopter. The Whirly-Bird "Jolly Green Giant:, accompanied by 2 A-1 "Sky Raiders" was coming his way.

Sijan grabbed his RT-10 radio and the pen-sized flare gun in a flying suit pocket. His big flare gun had been lost when he crashed the trees.

For 33 minutes the big HH-53 chopper hovered over his position. While the A-1's made NVA soldiers keep their heads down. At one time the jungle penetrator (a bullet-shaped device with a folding seat) was only 10 feet away, but Sijan could not reach it. The "Jolly Green" crew was amazed when Sijan refused the help of a P.J. or Para Jumper. The Para Jumpers were the most decorated men in South Vietnam. They were a combination medic-warrior whose one goal was to rescue downed pilots.

"Sandy 8", an A-1, took a crippling shot, and the pilot was picked up by Jolly Green-15.

For the next two days 108 aircraft tried to come to Sijan's aid. The Oriental mind could not grasp the idea that one life was that important.

When the 3rd day ended, Sijan decided he was on his own. By then he hadn't had water for two days. He was so dehydrated that his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Then the amazing odyssey to escape and evade that was noted by the Medal of Honor was to begin.

Using his elbows and buttock muscles he could crawl backwards. No, that is not a typobackwards is the way he had to crawl. The first 100 yards took six days. He survived by licking the dew off leaves and eating leeches and bugs. He tried eating slugs but found them too bitter to swallow. Finally, after 45 days of travel in this manner, he found a flat spot and slept through the night. At dawn an enemy truck almost ran over him.

In 45 days he had crawled only three miles. He had lost 100 pounds of his 195 pounds. The skin covering his buttocks was shredded and so thin that the hip bones showed through. His back was in the same condition. The skin covering his face was like looking through Saran Wrap.

While awaiting transport to the "Hanoi Hilton" (Hoa Lo Prison), he was held at the jungle prison at Vinh. While there he karate chopped a guard with his good lift hand and crawled off into the jungle. His recapture took less than three hours.

The three day road trip to the "Hanoi Hilton" was a nightmare of very real demons. Sijan's head was cradled in the lap of one fellow American POW while the other POW did his best to fend off the rolling of three empty 55 gallon oil drums. In the meantime the NVA driver managed to hit every one of the thousands of potholes on the old French built roadway. On occasion they would stop at a village along the way and show off the "Yankee Air Pirates." The Americans were pelted with everything from rocks to feces(human and animal).

Even in Hanoi Sijan had only one thoughtESCAPE.

A fellow prisoner told Air Force researchers that when an NVA interrogator dubbed "The Rodent" by POW's beat on Sijan's exposed leg bone for torture Sijan would shout: "You bastard---when I'm better I'm going to break your neck. My name is Lance Peter Sijan." None the less, all Sijan would furnish was name, rank, serial number, and date of birth.

Lance Sijan knew that the North Vietnamese prison guards did everything they could to avoid looking at his skeleton-like features. So, he would call to them. When they turned to look in his direction he would smile and make growling sounds; because, to the Vietnamese, the specter of death was evil personified.

An elderly Vietnamese doctor put a cast on Sijan's leg, only he applied the cast without setting the double bone break. As a result, the cast filled up with pus.

Near death and with a high fever Sijan wouldn't give up.

His cellmate woke up one night to see Sijan motioning to a guard to enter the cell. Closer inspection revealed his good left hand balled into a fist ready to karate chop the armed guard.

The dank constant dampness, coupled by infection caused by the cast, created a pulmonary condition. His last words: "My God, it's over. Come here, Dad. I need you."

A 1077 issue of AIRMAN asked a question that the elder Sylvestor Sijan wonders about to this day.

Driving down a Milwaukee freeway, the elder Sijan screamed, "Oh Lance, where are you??"

The questiondid he shout at the moment of Lance's death 11,000 miles away?

The story of Lance Peter Sijan-----AMERICAN!