Buddy Cianci
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Vincent Albert Cianci — called Buddy by friends and foes — is back.
Cianci served almost 20 years as mayor of Providence and ran for governor in 1980. Cianci was among the defendants included in a 30-count indictment in 2001, and was ultimately convicted of a single count of racketeering conspiracy. He was sentenced to serve 64 months. He was released in May.
I have known Buddy for more than 30 years. I worked for Cianci from 1975-80 as the city’s director of community development, and from 2001-02 as the city’s director of housing code enforcement. And I consider him a friend.
I interviewed Cianci at his office in the plush 903 Residences condominium complex behind Providence Place. Upon his release, he worked in marketing and sales in a job provided by the complex owner, Joe Paolino, scion of a real estate investment family, a former mayor himself, and one-time critic of Cianci. He resumes his second career as a talk show host on September 20 from 10 am to 2 pm on WPRO-630 AM.
Buddy answered my many questions in a forthright, open, and often somber manner. Humor flashed, usually in the form of one-liners aimed at his critics: “My return should help the Journal increase its revenue, which — in my absence — I understand, went into decline.” All in all, however, Cianci was philosophical.
Throughout the plunder dome trials you maintained your innocence. What were your thoughts the day you went off to prison? What were the early days there like?
It was one sad day in my life. It was Christmas time when I left, early December, the 5th. I remember leaving the Biltmore Hotel [where he lived at the time], and it was snowing, Christmas carols were playing in the city, it was festive, children were skating in the ice rink across from the hotel, a rink which I had a lot to do with establishing. The whole scene was surreal — the snow, the singing, the festive atmosphere. I thought of my family — Christmas was always my favorite time — and I was going to prison. It was surreal.
My friend Bob Lovell drove me to New Jersey, we stayed in a hotel overnight in Trenton, and I reported the next day to the prison. We waited at an Army guard station and then I was picked up and taken to the prison and Bob left. I was taken to a holding room where I stayed for about eight to 10 days. I didn’t know what to expect. I was given a physical exam, strip-searched, the usual stuff you hear about. Naturally, I was full with apprehension about how adjustment would go, what would happen. Around December 16, as near as I can remember, I was shackled with about 10 to 12 other guys and remember waiting for a bus to take us to a permanent place, and it was “cold, cold, cold” waiting for the bus, and we were then taken to new quarters in a building that housed about 400 men, most in dormitory-style living arrangements. All my personal clothes and property were taken, including my “squirrel” [toupee], which I never wore again in prison and now have decided not to wear.
How did the adjustment to prison go?
I got on OK. I was housed in a unit for 12 inmates, most of whom were minority guys. Two minority guys knew of me — they were from Providence, one had a picture of me with his kid at a Little League game in Providence, it was tacked up in his locker. They helped me to make the adjustment. In the early weeks I went to prison, 60 Minutes and the A&E channel ran specials on me, so most of the guys learned about me. One of the things I learned in prison is that you are respected if others know you pleaded not guilty but still was convicted, because they consider that you’re a “stand-up guy.” Most of the inmates pleaded guilty to get lesser sentences.
I was not housed in “country club” prison or “camp.” I was in a fenced-in-plus prison, holding over 4000 inmates, with iron gates and cells and concertina wire on top of the walls to prevent escape, and dogs for sniffing out drugs among inmates. There were serious drug dealers housed in there, some doing some long prison terms, a few organized crime guys who were connected with New York crime families and the like, and a lot of “illegal entries.” There were some white-collar criminals, but most of these guys were not from educated backgrounds. I did not have a hard time adjusting to the guards and other inmates. You learn quickly how to adapt, do what you have to do. I was held for the most part in “highest regard” in written reports. They [guards and administrators] judged me over time as a “role model” for getting along, for neatness, for cleanliness and performance of my jobs [according to written reports this interviewer had access to]. Over time, everybody participates in some way in evaluating how you handle yourself. The key to getting along is to show respect toward others and their activities. You learn quickly that respect and honor toward others is a must. Things happen in prison — you can easily get into trouble if you’re not careful, you get caught up in them. You don’t involve yourself in things that are not your business.
What were your jobs there? How did you spend your time in prison?
I was assigned early on from 11 am to 7:30 pm on kitchen “call-out” — mopping floors, washing, cleaning, doing anything that has to be done, for eight hours a day, five days a weeks. After a few months, I was assigned to work as a clerk in the prison library. Sometimes I did a little tutoring of guys who did not finish high school, but I was not formally a teacher there. I worked in the “leisure library,” not the law library, where guys go to read the law books. I was often asked by other inmates for legal advice, but I did not give it. The administrators don’t like the “jailhouse lawyer” idea. I would simply tell guys to talk to their own lawyer, or if they had none, the Bureau of Prisons has access to organizations that can help inmates with legal questions and they can read the law books.
In the leisure library, which is for general reading, I was looked upon as a “celebrity host” by other guys. I spent a lot of my time there. Mostly guys in prison watch sports on TV or gamble. I did neither. I read a lot. I read hundreds of books, usually biographies and some history. [When asked to name some of the titles, Cianci replied he read 1776, David McCullough’s history of the American Revolutionary period, and McCullough’s Truman. He also read about mayors Daley, Koch, and The Rascal King, Boston’s infamous Mayor James Michael Curley.] I also subscribed to papers and magazines, including the Providence Phoenix, which came every week. The other guys liked the Adult section of your paper.
What kept you going?
If not for the reading and visits from family and friends, such as my daughter Nicole and my lawyers, prison is totally a “sensory deprivation” — you have to do something or you’ll go nuts. Prison is a trip into boredom, with a side trip to monotony. It is tough if you make friends because some leave before you do, so you lost a friend and have to think about whether it is worth doing it again. After a while you realize that you must do the time or the “time” will do you. So you work to occupy your mind. I noticed that a lot of people in prison have no self-esteem, usually because they are going to be there for so long, they give up. I believe now that many people are in prison far longer than they should be and it does not help them to think about reordering their life, they are down so much. This is especially true of young drug dealers with terms of 10 or more years.
What motivated you? How did you fight the boredom?
I have always proclaimed my innocence — that keeps me going even today. In prison I focused on that and largely on my legal appeal for the better part of a year or more — working on that, hoping on that. But that fell through when my conviction was not reversed. Then my sentence was not reduced, even though the US Supreme Court had ruled while I was in prison that the federal sentencing guidelines under which I was sentenced were not mandatory but were recommendations. So then I determined to keep looking toward the day I would go home and what it would take to keep going, stay out of trouble, and finish my sentence.
During my stay there was a food strike in the prison promoted by Latino inmates and they asked me to join. I declined, went to the cafeteria that day, which was only half-full, and stayed away from the strike action. The administration then put us all in lockdown for three days, which meant we ate in our living quarters. We ate just baloney sandwiches and soda for those few days. I was determined not to get involved. I did not want to mess up my good behavior time, which can be up to 54 days a year off the full sentence. During that lockdown period the guards pulled a few of the strike ringleaders out during the night, shackled them, and took them off to other prisons, to break up the strike. We never saw those guys at Fort Dix again. I believe the key to happiness is freedom, and the key to freedom is courage — that is, to do what has to be done and keep doing it until it is accomplished. Having a routine each day helps a lot.
People who supported you politically or who just like you for doing what they think was a good job as mayor feel that your being found guilty of the one conspiracy charge but acquitted of all the others was puzzling. You said after you were convicted that you think you were “convicted of being the mayor.” How do you see all of that now?
I was found guilty of one charge of “conspiracy to racketeering,” one charge out of 30 given to the jury to determine against me. I was found not guilty of any of the “predicate acts” alleged in the racketeering charges against me or against the other defendants. I guess they thought I was “conspiring to conspire,” whatever that means. At the time of my re-sentencing, in my video appearance before the court made from Fort Dix, I apologized for all the anguish and trouble I caused my family, friends, and people in the city of Providence. But I do not apologize for something I did not do.
You are now under supervision of the Parole and Probation Division of the US Justice Department for two years, plus you must do 150 hours of community service, and you were fined $100,000. Is the fine paid? Do you have your passport? There is a 60-day “assessment” period since you left the halfway house in Boston. According to public statements made by the government, for determining how the next two years should go for you, that period started at the end of july. Have you heard anything on the results of the assessment?
No, nothing yet, I think the period ended [August 28]. The fine was paid before I went to prison. I am considering various things for community service with kids, the Boys & Girls Clubs, or community centers. No decision has been made yet but will be soon. What is required of me is that I can do anything that is legal. I can have a drink if I want, but I haven’t been drinking for over four years now, so I’ll go easy. I have to get permission to leave the state for any length of time. As for my passport, I don’t know, maybe I need to look into that. I don’t have it available now.
How do you think you have changed? What have you learned from all this trial and prison experience?
Well, you certainly change. Doesn’t everybody over time, especially if you’ve been in prison? I am at peace with myself. I have given up on the “squirrel,” I am going au naturel [as he passed his hand over his bald pate]. I feel free, not just from prison, but free to be myself. I take more time with people, especially my family, with little things, with listening more. My personal life is in order. I am moved by the number of people who want to see me, or call me — they don’t want anything from me like before when I was mayor, they just want to talk to me, take me to dinner, do things for me. I am grateful for that. I learned who my real friends are. There are people I did much for that I have not heard from since I was charged with the criminal counts years ago. They have not called or written to me in prison or here. And others who stayed in touch with letters or cards at holiday times, which are always difficult in prison, they followed my time and progress in prison and were supportive in so many ways, or got a word of support to me through others who visited or wrote.
The big thing was to get letters in prison, to stay in touch with what was going on at home, to know others cared, all of which kept me looking toward coming home. And I am keeping busy, planning things, putting a small staff together like Scott [Millard, former aide] and Charlie [Manso¬lillo former chief of staff], and David Igliozzi, who does some legal work for me.
And I am fortunate and thankful to Joe Paolino for the work placement here, as my daughter Nicole and my three grandchildren live in this building and I can see them regularly. My sister and her family have been really supportive. I want to get my own place, maybe a place near the water, but also a place in the city. [At press time, it was announced that Cianci will reside at the 903 Residences.] I’ll be making some pretty good money, more than I ever made as mayor, so I think I can afford it.
What can you tell us about your job as a talk radio host on WPRO-AM? How did the contract negotiations go? How much will you earn, and how do you see your radio show going?
I can’t tell you about my contract talks and salary — that is confidential — but it will be very good, I can tell you that. I can say clearly that I will be earning considerably more on radio than I earned in prison at $11.84 per month! As for the show itself, as I said publicly already, there will not be any negativity to my show when I get going. I have no axe to grind, I am not out to get anyone. I’ll be addressing the issues Rhode Island has, like how to achieve economic growth, the state and cities’ tax burdens, things like that. Right now, the growth industries in Rhode Island are gambling and the landfill! I will be talking about issues such as the advantages of consolidating school districts in Rhode Island — we have too many now — and whatever else comes up. And we will discuss national issues. I will be talking about stories you won’t read about in the Journal, stories the Journal may not run involving their favorite public figures. I mean, since I went away, the Journal now charges families for obituary space — imagine, a family is mourning a loved one and you have to pay the Providence Journal to let friends know publicly!
My show will not be about me as a political person, but my views as a citizen. I missed not being on talk radio. It was the happiest time in my career. I enjoyed it more than being mayor, because you feel free to talk about anything, to speak your mind without concern for how something will “play” with the voters or with the City Council, which you need to govern. I really look forward to going back on the radio.
What else will you be doing? You have talked about writing a book and setting up a library of the records and events of your administrations as mayor.
I am talking with a television station here to become their chief political analyst for special programs, at election times and when major issues come up, but we have not finalized anything yet. Yes, I am going to do the book, that is a labor of love for me. I kept notes of everything I could think of during my time in prison. I will tell the real story of my career, not like The Prince of Providence [the book by Journal reporter Mike Stanton about Cianci and the Plunder Dome experience and trials]. I was recently told that Stanton was at a book event in New York City, I think in SoHo, and he was giving a talk on his book, wore a white suit like the famous author Tom Wolfe wears, acting like he [Stanton] was a major author. Hell, he only wrote one book in his life and if it wasn’t for me he wouldn’t have a book. I never read the book [The Prince of Providence] and don’t care to read it. People have told me about some parts of it, but I do not intend to read it.
What do you think of the idea of making a movie based on the book? And what did you think of the documentary movie Buddy by Cherry Arnold?
First, the movie by Cherry was good. I thought it was a fair and balanced treatment of my career. I saw it when I was at the halfway house in Boston, she sent me the DVD. She called me and wants to do an interview with me to sort of end the story with my coming out of prison and all. [Cianci has since filmed an update with Arnold.] She is going to give the Web site buddycianci.com to me when the DVD is out on sale. I think they are asking $25 for it, none of which goes to me.
As for the movie based on Stanton’s book, they have been talking about that for years and nothing seems to be happening. I think [director Michael] Corrente is having trouble raising funds and he has other things to deal with first, things I hear but cannot be sure to talk about. Who knows if the movie will ever be made?
Who would you like to play you if the movie is made? A number of actors have been mentioned, like Robert De Niro, Russell Crowe, Nicolas Cage, and Paul Giamatti, who looks something like you since he is balding and wears glasses as you do sometimes.
I have nothing to do with Michael Corrente or with any movie about me with him. I am in discussions with Tribeca Films, which Robert De Niro founded, which has made overtures to me as they are interested in making a film of my career and will also involve a major Hollywood studio. As for who will play me, there is no one in mind now. I like De Niro and Paul Giamatti too, I knew his father [Bart Giamatti, the former Yale University president and commissioner of Major League Baseball]. I met him at a conference at Yale.
What other things will you do? What about the library?
Well, the library idea is dear to my heart. I have many things in archives that are warehoused now. The library could be a place where students on urban problems could come to study records and issues. It would have a video component of my career and the city of Providence, and it could be a discussion center type of thing where once a year, perhaps, we could hold a conference on a major problem of cities and government and invite various officials and academics to participate. The library fund, which has long been established as a nonprofit corporation, has over $350,000 in it that will be devoted to establishing the library/conference center.
Do you think of running for political office again?
No, I do not think about running at all, [I] got too much to make up for. But you know, it is ironic that I can register and vote, which I will soon, and I can run for president, I can run for Congress, but I can’t run for mayor. [A Rhode Island constitutional amendment, passed in 1986 and informally called “the Buddy amendment,” prohibits a convicted felon from running for public office until three years have passed following the completion of an entire sentence.] You know, I am proud that the people of Providence elected me six times to be their mayor — I never lost a Providence election. I may also do some real estate development. I still own a few buildings from which I derive income. [Cianci’s family held real estate and he owns some commercial property outside the city.]
I will maintain my interest in ensuring that the Cianci Scholarship Fund still goes on. We have now helped 130 kids from the city, mostly minority kids, go on to college — all that with proceeds from the Mayor’s Own Marinara Sauce, [which] still sells in the markets. There is $565,000 in endowment assets in the scholarship fund. Maybe I will market other products for the scholarship funds, such as a salad dressing or a Bloody Mary mix. No olive oil — everybody does olive oil now. People have told me recently as I am in negotiating contracts for radio, TV, and for a film of my career with the national filmmakers, that my name “Buddy” and all that it implies is actually a brand. Imagine that!
Some people, including some in the media, like to make a comparison between you and the current mayor as to who should get credit for the “renaissance” of Providence. What do you say to that?
It’s not an equal comparison — he has been mayor just five years, I was mayor for 22 years and had more time to do things. Let the people decide who gets credit for this or that.
Based on your experiences, do you have any insight or advice for anyone who achieves celebrity status and for those who would run for or hold public office?
Well, I don’t know if anyone wants my advice, after what I have been through. But I think individuals handle their status differently. What I would say, what I have learned, is to value your family and your good friends, always look to the future when things are going tough, it keeps your mind on the goal. Remember even in the toughest times that life goes on, the best is yet to come. In order to appreciate and achieve the peaks you have to have been in the valleys. And . . . don’t read your own press clippings!
