by Howie Carr, Boston Herald

Sunday, September 22, 2002

Here's the question a jury is going to have to decide:

Is Tim Mello a guy who sells fish, or somebody who makes other guys sleep with the fishes?

With the Italian and the Irish mobs now routed, the feds now turn their fire on Bristol County's top Portuguese gangster, although that, of course, is not how Timmy Mello would describe himself.

Sure, the alleged boss of the waterfront rackets used to be ``associated with'' former Mafia don Frank Salemme, and now he employs Salemme's one-time lawyer. But can't a guy go straight?

``He's a businessman,'' says attorney Tony Cardinale. ``Whatever his past is, it is. Yes, he was a drug-crazed robber.

But this is a story of redemption.''

And some fishing boats with such names as ``See No Evil'' and ``It Ain't Easy'' and ``Let It Ride.'' Not to mention two guns, $5 million in cash and a fish-processing plant on the New Bedford docks.

At age 45, Tim Mello is a legend in Bristol County - the Bayou. The Bayou has always suffered from an inferiority complex, and rightly so. Even the Bayou's underworld was dominated by outsiders from Providence who would swagger across the Braga Bridge to demand tribute.

No more. Now when the Federal Hill gunsels try to muscle a coke dealer or a bookie, the Bristol County homeboys puff out their chests and say, ``I'm with Tim.''

End of shakedown. Whether it's true or not, the Mafia guys back off. Nobody wants to tangle with Timmy.

Tim Mello gets respect, the kind Joe Barboza could only dream of. Tim Mello is built like a gorilla, and in his junkie days, he robbed his share of pharmacies. But after he learned the mob ropes in prison, he took over the New Bedford docks, and until last week lived among the suburban swells on a multi-acre spread in South Dartmouth.

One night recently, or so the story goes, Tim Mello was in a bar on Purchase Street in New Bedford. A bunch of state cops were pounding them down, and Tim, ditto. So Mello gets a little un-mellow, and he invites all the staties outside. They all stayed inside.

A little bit of that goes a very long way.

Remember, this is Bristol County. They're still living in a 1956 black-and-white movie down there, and Mello's outfit is so film-noir that his top enforcer is named ``Bruno'' - Bruno Moniz.

``How do I know how he got the nickname?'' asks Cardinale. ``Maybe he liked Bruno Sammartino. Bruno's brother is named `Gucci.' So what?''

Tim Mello is a guy with Six Degrees of Separation from John Gotti. He was once accused of trying to kidnap and murder a Providence bookie with a strongarm named Kevin Hanrahan, who served time with a guy named Richard Gomes who later became driver for John Gotti, whose co-defendant was Frank LoCascio, whose lawyer was Cardinale.

Got that? I'm telling you, in the Bayou they may fear him, but they're also kind of proud. Plus, no more does Bristol County gangland ride in the back seat, taking orders from Providence plug-uglies like The Man, Rubber Lips and Baby Shanks.

``How tough is Tim?'' says one former law-enforcement source. ``He once told Baby Shanks to go bleep himself.'' Perhaps. At any rate, according to the indictment, Mello was controlling the local drug trade even while he was in prison in the late '80s.

``Upon his release,'' the feds say, ``Mello took control of Louie Alexander's criminal organization and effectively made it his own gang.''

As for Mr. Alexander, soon after the takeover he and his partner, one Joseph Savitch, vanished. The bones of both were found in Maine in 1994. Foul play, as they say, was suspected.

Now the case goes to trial. It will get confusing. Half the cast seems to be named Pacheco - big surprise in the Bayou. One of Tim's lawyers already has been disbarred.

Mello's mob seems confident. The feds have no wiretaps, and there are no charges of murder or money-laundering.

The feds, say Mello's minions, have no evidence of recent crimes serious enough to kick-start the RICO statute.

Bruno Moniz, they say, will stand up, but they said that about Sammy the Bull and Kevin Weeks too.

It's a prime-time moment in Bristol County. Lizzie Borden, Joe Barboza, Father Porter and now . . . Timmy Mello, the Pride of the Bayou.

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