Monday, 10 June 2002 | Teflon Don

The last semester of my senior year in college, I was required to write a 20+ page investigative research paper that covered a specific aspect of journalism. Of course I wanted to cover an issue that would hold my attention for the entire semester, but I chose rather haphazardly; since I'd been watching a lot of Mafia movies, I decided to write about the media's treatment of John Gotti, whom I knew little about.

As part of my research I'd written Gotti a letter, asking for his opinion of his image in the media. I'd found his penitentiary address online, along with an unusual list of items that I was forbidden to send him, including plant shavings, body hair, nude pictures, and stamps. Right. So I followed those instructions, but I didn't really expect anything back.

A month after I'd turned in my project, Gotti responded. Flowery handwriting on two sheets of notebook paper, a polite grammatically correct letter about his disgust for the media and its unfair portrayal of him, wishes of luck for my career, praise for the fact I wasn't pursuing a career in law.

I always meant to write him back to thank him for his response, but I never did. Yes, I know all of the reasons I shouldn't be sad to hear of his death, but I am a little sad anyway.

[See pieces of his letter]