Let me tell ya ’bout Guarino “Willie” Moretti, or as we liked to call him, Willie Moore. Born in the old country, Italy, and making his bones over here in Jersey, Willie was a man you didn’t wanna mess with. Came up the hard way, got himself a stretch in Elmira for a little robbery in ’13, but he didn’t let that slow him down. From ’33 to ’51, him and the boys—Joe Adonis, Settimo Accardi, and Abner Zwillman—ran gambling joints up and down Jersey and into New York. He had a couple nice spots in Hasbrouck Heights and Deal, living the high life while making sure the cash kept flowing.
Willie had connections, big ones. He was Sinatra’s godfather, for cryin’ out loud. When Frank had trouble with Tommy Dorsey, rumor has it Willie sorted it out with a little persuasion—let’s just say Dorsey didn’t argue much after that. Willie had a soft spot for entertainers, always helping out the likes of Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Jerry Lewis. Hell, those guys even performed at his stepsister’s wedding in ’47. But when the Kefauver hearings came around in ’50, Willie’s mouth got him in trouble. He talked too much, joked around too much. Made the Senators laugh, sure, but it wasn’t smart. The other guys clammed up, but not Willie.
By ’51, the talk was Willie was losing it, maybe syphilis was eating at his brain. The bosses weren’t too happy with him running his mouth, so they decided it was time for him to go. On October 4th, Willie was having lunch at Joe’s Elbow Room in Cliffside Park with four guys. They were all laughing and chatting in Italian, just like any other day. But then the shots rang out—bam, bam!—right in his face and head. The boys scrammed before the waitress could even see straight. Willie was left there, bleeding out on the floor, a few bullets in his face—some say it was a sign of respect, believe it or not.
Funny thing, Martin and Lewis were supposed to have lunch with Willie that day, but Jerry caught the mumps. Lucky break for them, huh? They found out about Willie’s hit from the TV later on. Just goes to show, this life, it’s got a funny way of turning on ya when you least expect it. Willie Moretti, he lived and died by the code, but he talked too much, and in our world, that’s a death sentence.
