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934 Snyder Ave., home of slain mob boss Angelo Bruno, is up for sale

WANNA LIVE like an old-school Philly gangster? Take out a mortgage on 934 Snyder Ave. But try to avoid the fate of a prior owner, former mob boss Angelo Bruno, who was killed by a shotgun blast to his head in 1980 while sitting in a car parked out front.

Jean Bruno, daughter of late Philadelphia mob boss Angelo Bruno, stands in the shadow of her father's Snyder Avenue house. (Alejandro A. Alvarez / Staff Photographer)
Jean Bruno, daughter of late Philadelphia mob boss Angelo Bruno, stands in the shadow of her father's Snyder Avenue house. (Alejandro A. Alvarez / Staff Photographer)Read more

PHILADELPHIA - Wanna live like an old-school Philly gangster? Take out a mortgage on 934 Snyder Ave.

But try to avoid the fate of a prior owner, former mob boss Angelo Bruno, who was killed by a shotgun blast to his head in 1980 while sitting in a car parked out front.

"Everytime I come out of this house, I see the very spot where he was killed," said Bruno's daughter, Jean, who lives in the three-bedroom end rowhouse in South Philadelphia.

The Snyder Avenue house, the first home Angelo Bruno bought, has been in the family since the 1950s. Now it's the end of an era. It's on the market with an asking price of $250,000. (Tip: You can probably get it for less.)

"John Stanfa did the brickwork. He did a very good job," Jean Bruno said nonchalantly, referring to her father's driver, who became the Philadelphia mob boss in the 1990s. Stanfa is serving five consecutive life sentences for racketeering.

The house, listed with Long & Foster Real Estate, is a major fixer-upper. The outdoor tiles are cracked, the window paint is peeling and the front steps need repair. The inside could use a complete overhaul.

Jean Bruno, who lived there as a child, says she's moving to New Jersey, but hopes to make her way down to Florida eventually.

"I always wanted to live in Florida and be an old bat in Miami Beach or Fort Lauderdale," Bruno, 68, said with a chuckle, a house key dangling from her necklace. "I'm like a turtle. The house is a shell, and it's time for me to move on."

The property's listing agent, who has close ties to the Bruno family and asked that her name not be published, said the sale "will be emotional. Anytime you let go of the last vestige of what you remember, it's difficult."

Celeste Morello, a local historian who wrote the 2005 biography "Before Bruno and How He Became Boss," said Bruno liked to be close to the action. He remained in the neighborhood to keep an eye on his bookmakers and other mob earners.

"There were guys in the mob that lived in Villanova and Jersey, and Bruno could have done that, but he wanted to live among the people that were making money [for the mob]," Morello said.

Jean Bruno, a former second-grade teacher, enjoyed New Year's parties in the home's basement bar room and sang with her father as he played the piano. The house, she said, had a steady stream of visitors who came looking for advice, a job or a favor from the "Gentle Don."

"It was like Grand Central Station," she said. "There were always people here. He treated everybody nicely."

Angelo Bruno, 69, was shot in front of his home the night of March 21, 1980, after his last meal - chicken Sicilian and rigatoni marinara - at then-Cous' Little Italy, at 11th and Christian. Stanfa was slightly injured by the shotgun pellets.

Stanfa, who was convicted of perjury in 1981 for lying about a meeting with New York crime figures shortly after Bruno's death, is widely believed to have conspired in the Bruno hit, which set off a prolonged Mafia war.

But Jean Bruno, standing on her porch this week, feet from where the murder occurred, still doesn't buy that theory.

"I don't believe he had anything to do with it," she said of Stanfa.

Will the notoriety of the Bruno home attract buyers or keep them away?

You have to admit, it's the ultimate South Philly conversation piece. The new owner would always have a story to tell at house parties. But a bloody mob hit can leave behind some bad juju, even if it was 30 years ago.

The listing agent for Bruno's home isn't sure if there would be widespread buyer interest.

"In real estate, there's such a thing as stigma. This can be good or bad," she said. "It's really in the eye of the beholder."