Part 56

The partnership of Battaglia and Guarna operated honestly and aboveboard, Customs files show, until January 18, 1954. On that day, Battaglia arrived in New York harbor aboard the SS Vulcania. He handed over his declaration to Inspector Benjamin Danis, who was a short, pudgy man who soon impressed Battaglia as an extremely courteous and helpful officer. Danis made only a casual inspection of Battaglia’s trunks and luggage, which was not unusual on this particular day because the inspectors’ instructions were to make only a spot check of travellers’ baggage.

After clearing all the baggage, Danis hinted amicably that if Battaglia had not listed the samples of merchandise on his declaration, he could very easily have overlooked them and there would have been no need to pay the duty.

“Is that so?” Battaglia said in surprise. “I was told to list everything.”

Danis grinned. “It’s simple if you know the right people.”

Battaglia reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “Take this card and drop around to see me at my place of business,” he said to Danis. “And would you give me your name and address? I would like to send you a few Italian ties as a gift. You have been very courteous.”

Danis gave Battaglia his name and address. “I’ll be around to see you,” he said. “I can give you some tips that will help you in clearing Customs.”

A few days later, Danis visited the shop of Battaglia and Guarna and chatted with the partners for several minutes about the problems of Customs clearances. Battaglia asked him to take his choice of several expensive Italian ties. But after Danis selected them Battaglia realized that Danis expected more than a gift of ties. He handed him a $20 bill, which Danis accepted.

As he stuffed the bill into his pocket, Danis said, “Let’s get down to business. If you will let me know in advance when you or your representatives are arriving from Europe, I can arrange to handle the inspection of your baggage. I won’t ask any questions if all your merchandise is not listed on the declarations.”

Battaglia said, “But what if we arrive and you are sick--or for some reason can’t handle the inspection?”

“That’s no problem,” Danis said. “If I can’t handle the inspection myself, then I’ll arrange for someone else to do it.”

“What if we’re caught bringing in merchandise which is not on the declaration?” Battaglia asked.

Danis laughed. “The worst that will happen to you is that you’ll have to pay the duty. So what have you got to lose?”

It seemed so simple to the partners that they decided to give it a try on the next trip that Battaglia made to Italy. If Danis could arrange the clearance of sample merchandise so easily, then it was reasonable to assume he would have no difficulty with larger shipments of merchandise as well. If they could save the payment of duties, then the partnership’s profits would rise in spectacular fashion.

A few days after this conversation, Danis returned to the office of Battaglia and Guarna, accompanied by Customs Inspector William Lev, a tall, fat man with a swarthy complexion. Danis advised the partners that Lev was a man they could trust. He said in the event one of them should arrive in New York and he, Danis, was not available to help them through Customs, then they could depend on Lev to help them just as they could depend on him.

Battaglia returned to Italy in June, 1954, on another of his buying trips. He remained there until January 17, 1955, when he returned to the United States aboard the SS Andrea Doria. Prior to his arrival, Guarna telephoned Inspector Danis and advised him of the time of Battaglia’s arrival.

Danis was on the pier when Battaglia walked from the ship, and he handled the examination of his baggage. The examination and clearance proceeded smoothly. None of the samples which Battaglia brought from Italy was listed on his declaration. And there was no reason why Danis’ perfunctory inspection should have aroused the suspicion of any other inspector because again that day the inspectors had orders to make only a spot check of the travellers’ luggage. On some days, the inspectors were required to inspect all luggage. On other days only spot checks were ordered.

In testing the scheme proposed by Danis, Battaglia carried merchandise valued at something over $1,000, on which the duty would not have been more than $300 even had he declared the imports. He took the merchandise from the pier to the office on West 37th Street, and shortly thereafter Danis appeared to receive his payment. Battaglia gave him $100 in cash.

Both Battaglia and Guarna were elated over the discovery that they could bring merchandise into the country so simply without the payment of duties. They began planning to bring even greater quantities of merchandise from Italy on future trips.

In the months that followed, Battaglia and Guarna brought from Italy trunks packed with expensive men’s wear which they were able to slip through Customs without the payment of duty. When unable to make a trip themselves, they arranged to have acquaintances and relatives bring the merchandise. In each case, there were prearranged inspections, with Lev having taken over the inspection end of the operation.

Inspector Theodore Rider, a tall, long-nosed, sallow-faced man, became involved in the operation quite by accident. On one of his many trips, Battaglia was standing on the pier waiting for Lev to make an inspection of his baggage when Rider approached and asked if he could help with his clearance.

“Thanks,” Battaglia said, “but Inspector William Lev is a good friend of mine and I’m waiting for him to handle the clearance. He’ll be along shortly.”

Rider said, “Whatever Lev can do, I can do.”

“Well,” Battaglia said, “go easy on the examination, will you?”

Rider took only a casual look at a couple of small suitcases and then stamped all the baggage for clearance. For their cooperation in this case, Rider received $100 and Lev was paid $300. Battaglia and Guarna saved $6,185 in duties.

By midsummer of 1957, Battaglia and Guarna were convinced that the U.S. Customs Service was riddled with corruption and that there was no further need to worry. They were so certain that their system was foolproof that Guarna went to Italy and arranged the purchase of $41,000 worth of merchandise, which normally could be imported only with the payment of $13,325 in duties. The partners were not worrying about the duties because they had received a communication from Lev that when Guarna returned “everything will be all right.”

But everything was not “all right.” Earlier in the year a dapper, dark-haired man had called at the Varick Street headquarters of the Customs Special Agency Service and asked to see Agent Dave Cardoza, the big, amiable veteran of a thousand investigations, who headed the Bureau’s New York Racket Squad.

This man, whose identity has never been disclosed by Customs, had an interesting story to tell Cardoza. He was a competitor of Battaglia and Guarna and he had become extremely curious about their sudden rise in the merchandising field. He also was intrigued by their peculiar ability to shave prices below a reasonable competitive level.

He had been making his own inquiries and observations over a period of many months. He knew the names of some of the people who had carried merchandise into the country for the partners. He had seen Customs inspectors visit the partners’ place of business--and on one occasion he had seen Battaglia pass money to an inspector whom he identified from a picture as being Lev.