A PHILADELPHIA drug trafficker who shared a prison cell with one of America’s most notorious criminals has revealed what really went on behind bars.
For two years in the mid-1980s, George Martorano and the Gambino family mob boss lived side by side at the Metropolitan Correctional Center in New York while Gotti faced his first RICO trial.
Now, years after his release, Martorano has offered an insider’s view on the mobster whose reputation has been glamorised in pop culture but whose life was rooted in violence and criminality.
While Martorano acknowledged Gotti’s charisma, the man known as the “Dapper Don” was a man who thrived on fear, manipulation, and unwavering loyalty to his own interests.
Martorano told The Sun: “To me, he was just a great guy… a good father.
“He could command respect like no one else, but he also had a softer side — a side most people never saw.”
Martorano’s path to sharing a cell with John Gotti was shaped by a life steeped in organised crime.
His father, a driver for Philadelphia mob boss Angelo Bruno, was murdered in the streets during one of the city’s infamous mob wars.
Although Martorano insists he was never formally inducted into the Mafia, his proximity to organised crime paved the way for his fate behind bars.
In 1984, Martorano was convicted on drug trafficking charges and sentenced to life without parole for a nonviolent marijuana conspiracy — despite being a first-time offender.
His sentence was one of the harshest ever given for such an offence, leading him to spend over three decades behind bars, including five years in solitary confinement.
He was released on October 5, 2015, on compassionate release order.
While in prison, Martorano’s two years with John Gotti stand out as one of the most pivotal chapters of his life.
But Martorano’s anecdotes, while tinged with some nostalgia, also offer a glimpse into the carefully crafted persona of the man who ruled the Gambino crime family with an iron fist.
The pair formed a bond built on mutual respect and an unspoken understanding of survival.
Martorano said: “John was my cellie. We lived together for over two years.
“John had his guys in prison, who came up to me and told me I’d be his cellie.
“When I asked why, they told me it’s because I had served his crew [Gambino crime family] before – and they said he could be a ‘rough character’.
“And when he came in, around 8.30-9 in the morning, I made him a fruit salad and a hot cup of coffee.”
Martorano recalled the “rules” of sharing a cell with Gotti: “Anything said in the cell stayed in the cell.”
He claimed they bonded over discussions about sports and women, but it’s clear that Gotti’s so-called charm was as much about control as it was camaraderie.
Despite his fearsome reputation as the head of the Gambino crime family, Gotti showed a softer side to George Martorano.
“John was very respectful to my family. Every Thursday, he arranged dinner for them when they came to visit me,” Martorano shared.
Gotti’s loyalty extended to his niece, Nicolina, who was a frequent presence during his court appearances.
“She would sit right behind him in the courtroom and put her hand on his shoulder. He loved that,” Martorano said.
“He even warned the marshals ‘Don’t you go near her, don’t you interfere with her’.”
Living with Gotti meant sharing both the mundane and the extraordinary moments of prison life.
Martorano remembers Gotti’s ability to find joy in simple pleasures, like playing solitaire.
“He loved playing solitaire, and he didn’t cheat,” he said.
But the mob boss’s darker tendencies were never far from view.
Martorano described Gotti’s ability to command unwavering respect and instill fear.
“When I was sent to the hole for smuggling a sandwich, John made sure no one else took my spot in the cell,” he said.
“He told them, ‘The whole building will go up if they try.’”
The last time Martorano saw Gotti was a moment of bittersweet humour.
Gotti’s infamous nickname, “Teflon Don,” came from his early ability to evade convictions.
On Friday the 13th, the superstitious Mafia man was cursing about the unlucky date as he prepared to leave their cell for court.
Before departing, he turned to Martorano, grabbed his face, and whispered: “Call me at home tonight.”
“That’s because John had found out his jury was all set,” Martorano said.
It was the last time the two men would see each other.
As the years wore on, Gotti’s health began to deteriorate, and Martorano witnessed the physical and emotional toll it took on the once-dominant figure when he was jailed again.
John was my cellie. We lived together for over two years
George Martorano
“He smoked cheap cigars, and he got an infection in his throat, which they let languish until it turned into cancer,” Martorano said.
Gotti died from throat cancer in 2002, a shadow of the powerful mob boss he once was.
After serving over three decades in prison, Martorano was granted clemency in 2016.
Since his release, he has dedicated himself to helping others avoid the pitfalls of a life tied to organised crime.
“If you want to go into that life, hear some prison stories—it’ll be a big deterrent,” Martorano said.
“There’s no winning in that life. You’ll either end up in jail, get ratted on, or become a rat yourself.”
Martorano now runs a cannabis brand, The Grow Father, and works as an advocate for criminal justice reform.
He often speaks to at-risk youth, sharing his experiences to steer them toward better paths.
For Martorano, the lessons of life in the streets are clear: “There’s no winning in organised crime. You either rot in prison, get ratted on, or become the rat.”
JOHN Gotti (1940–2002) was a notorious American mobster and organised crime boss.
He became the head of the Gambino crime family, one of New York City’s most powerful and infamous Mafia organisations, during the 1980s.
Gotti orchestrated the 1985 murder of Paul Castellano, the Gambino family boss, and seized control of the organisation.
This bold move cemented his reputation as a ruthless and ambitious leader.
Gotti enjoyed media attention, earning him another nickname, the “Teflon Don,” because of his ability to avoid convictions in multiple high-profile trials during the late 1980s.
Witness intimidation, jury tampering, and other tactics helped him evade justice.
In 1992, Gotti was finally convicted of murder, racketeering, and other charges after his underboss, Salvatore “Sammy the Bull” Gravano, turned informant and testified against him.
He was sentenced to life in prison without parole.
Gotti spent the rest of his life in prison, where he died of throat cancer in 2002.
