A Wartime Opportunist
When Charlie “Lucky” Luciano was locked away in 1937, his underling Vito Genovese knew the heat was on. New York’s relentless prosecutor Thomas Dewey had a knack for putting high-ranking gangsters behind bars. And Genovese? He had a corpse in his past—Ferdinand Boccia, gunned down on his orders. Worse yet, there was a witness, Peter LaTempa, who could put the final nail in his coffin. Facing the electric chair, Genovese did what any self-preserving gangster would do: he took an “extended vacation”—to fascist Italy.
But Vito didn’t go to lay low. Not his style. Instead, he cozied up to Benito Mussolini, greasing palms and even ordering a hit on an anti-fascist journalist to stay in Il Duce’s good graces. When the Allies invaded, Genovese pulled his next move—switching sides. He became an interpreter for the U.S. Army, ingratiating himself with American officers while secretly orchestrating one of the largest black-market operations in war-torn Italy. He played everyone, running a lucrative racket siphoning off military supplies, from flour and sugar to PX luxuries like cigarettes and soap. Enter the man who would try to take him down: Agent Orange C. Dickey.
Agent Orange vs. The King of the Black Market
A 24-year-old Military Intelligence Division agent, Dickey wasn’t your typical hardened gumshoe. Before the war, he had been a campus patrolman at Pennsylvania State College—not exactly the kind of background that prepared him for going toe-to-toe with one of the most ruthless crime bosses in history. But what he lacked in experience, he made up for in grit.
Working with informant Francesco Trisci, Dickey uncovered the vast scale of Genovese’s black-market empire. It wasn’t just food and goods—the gangster was running a prostitution ring for Allied officers. Another source, Julius Simonelli, pointed Dickey to the book Gang Rule in New York by Craig Thompson and Raymond Allen, which detailed Genovese’s bloody rise in the Mafia underworld. Armed with this knowledge, Dickey began closing in.
The Bust That Should Have Ended It All
Dickey’s investigation revealed a well-oiled criminal machine. Genovese’s gang stole U.S. Army trucks, loaded them with stolen supplies, then torched the evidence. In one case, he even enlisted two Canadian soldiers to pull off a heist. Dickey arrested them on June 4, 1944, and they spilled everything. That was all he needed—Dickey was ordered to bring in the big boss.
Tracking Genovese wasn’t easy. The mobster had been fired from his cushy Army interpreter job but was still operating with impunity. Dickey finally found him in Nola, sitting in a chauffeur-driven limousine. With two British soldiers at his side, Dickey made the arrest on August 27, 1944. Genovese was heavily armed, but for once, his silver tongue failed him.
Raiding his Naples apartment, Dickey found a treasure trove of incriminating evidence: a high-powered radio receiver (a possible espionage tool), hoarded military goods, and—most damning of all—letters of recommendation from high-ranking U.S. officers. Captain Charles I. Dunn called him “absolutely honest.” Major E.N. Holmgreen praised his “unselfish service.” Major Stephen Young vouched for his “trustworthiness.” Even as Genovese bled the Army dry, powerful figures were protecting him.
The Great Escape (With a Little Help)
Dickey dug deeper. He found that Genovese was running illegal currency exchanges and had a safe deposit box in Nola. But when he tried to access it, he hit a bureaucratic wall. By the time he secured a court order, a relative of Genovese had already emptied it. It was becoming clear—someone was covering for the mobster.
Then, the real pressure started. Dickey’s superiors suddenly transferred Genovese from a secure Military Police jail to a civilian lockup in Avellino. The reason? A “certain general’s name had become involved.” When Dickey pressed for details, he hit another dead end. Meanwhile, Brooklyn District Attorney William O’Dwyer, serving as a military legal advisor in Italy, told Dickey to bypass Army channels and contact the DA’s office directly. O’Dwyer would have nothing to do with the mobster.
Genovese had been in jail for six months, yet no one was moving to put him on trial. The whole thing stank. Then, just when it seemed like Dickey had the Mafia kingpin dead to rights, Peter LaTempa, the only witness tying Genovese to the Boccia murder, died in his cell. The cause? Arsenic poisoning—enough to kill eight horses. Official ruling: suicide.
Back to the States, But Not for Long
Despite the mounting corruption, Dickey wasn’t giving up. He personally escorted Genovese back to the U.S. on the SS James Lykes, docking in New York on June 1, 1945. The gangster was arraigned the next day, pleading not guilty. But with LaTempa dead, the prosecution had nothing. By June 1946, the case was dropped.
Vito Genovese walked free, and in true Mafia fashion, he would go on to climb even higher, eventually taking control of the Luciano crime family. But for Agent Orange Dickey, the bitter taste remained. He had brought down one of the most dangerous men in organized crime—only to watch him slip through the cracks of military incompetence, political corruption, and Mafia influence.
Somebody, somewhere, had pulled the right strings to keep Genovese untouchable. And Orange Dickey? He was left with the knowledge that justice, in this case, had been nothing more than an illusion.
Epilogue: The Aftermath
Vito Genovese may have dodged that bullet, but karma came knocking years later. His insatiable ambition led to his own downfall when he overreached in an attempted coup against Frank Costello. By 1959, he was finally convicted on heroin trafficking charges—thanks to a government witness who survived long enough to testify. He spent the rest of his days rotting in prison, dying behind bars in 1969. As for Orange C. Dickey? He faded into obscurity, but his story remains one of the greatest “almost” victories against organized crime.
In the end, Genovese proved that crime does pay—at least, until the bill comes due.
Penned by the Infamous C.F. Marciano – A Name You Don’t Forget.