Pubdate: Thu, 26 Feb 2015
Source: New York Times (NY)
Copyright: 2015 The New York Times Company
Contact: http://www.nytimes.com/ref/membercenter/help/lettertoeditor.html
Website: http://www.nytimes.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/298
Author: Vivian Yee

AT A BROOKLYN CHERRY FACTORY, A SUICIDE AND AN ILLICIT DISCOVERY

There was no sign on the former brick factory on the treeless block 
in Red Hook, Brooklyn, where Arthur Mondella worked. No name on the 
door. Nothing - other than the bright-red liquid trickling onto the 
sidewalk and into the gutter, and the thick scent of syrup on a 
summer's day - to announce the presence of one of the country's 
largest suppliers of maraschino cherries.

"Look at this building," said Brian Connell, 68, who has lived next 
door to Dell's Maraschino Cherries for nearly 20 years. "It's totally 
anonymous. And then, here you see this Porsche Carrera being backed 
out. I say to myself, 'The cherry business is profitable! Who knew?' "

Mr. Mondella's company, which his grandfather and father founded in 
1948, was indeed large and, to all appearances, profitable. But the 
Dikeman Street plant had some trappings the neighbors found curious. 
The fleet of vehicles Mr. Mondella kept in the garage, for instance, 
including the Porsche, a Rolls-Royce, a Harley-Davidson and a 
Mercedes - all pure white. The security cameras bristling from the 
building's corners. The razor wire barricading its roof.

On Tuesday, Mr. Mondella, 57, shot and killed himself in his office 
bathroom just as city investigators were discovering that a marijuana 
farm lay beneath the factory. On Wednesday, investigators were still 
sorting through what was legal and what was not at the plant. 
According to one law enforcement official, who asked not to be named 
because he was not authorized to comment on a continuing 
investigation, it appeared that Mr. Mondella's employees had not 
known about his other operations.

A truck was dispatched to collect material, which included nearly 
$200,000 in cash, the official said. It was not clear by Wednesday 
evening how the marijuana came to be grown at the factory or how it 
was distributed.

The factory's residential and commercial neighbors, many of whom said 
they had had no idea a cherry factory was nearby, found little to 
explain Mr. Mondella's sideline business, or why he would take such 
an extreme step over a crime that struck many as fairly minor in a 
borough where the district attorney has stopped prosecuting most 
low-level marijuana offenses. The most controversy the factory had 
attracted before this came several years ago, when local bees began 
turning red after feasting on the cherry liquid.

"In this neighborhood it's hard to keep a secret - except for this 
one," said Pat Murano, 41, who has lived next door to the factory 
since 2005, occasionally complaining about the noise coming from 
Dell's but rarely seeing Mr. Mondella himself.

In hindsight, the security cameras, wire and lights Mr. Mondella 
installed after a break-in about eight years ago seemed strange, Mr. 
Murano said, especially after investigators told neighbors that a 
large sum of money had been taken. "I didn't think he was protecting 
the Dye No. 7 or his equipment," he said.

Yet the factory seemed nothing if not successful. Mr. Mondella had 
expanded the plant multiple times, neighbors said, and he had bought 
warehouses and satellite facilities on other streets nearby. 
Hurricane Sandy devastated much of the rest of the waterfront 
neighborhood, but left the Dell's factory intact.

He would often call Frank Manzione, a local real estate broker whom 
he had known since the 1990s and who sold Dell's another property on 
Dikeman Street, to ask about acquiring other buildings. Mr. Mondella 
- - described as mellow yet direct, friendly and hardworking - was one 
of the clients Mr. Manzione said he most enjoyed doing business with.

The last time they spoke, in December, Mr. Mondella said business was 
good - so good that he needed an additional 4,000 to 6,000 square 
feet of space.

"The man was a stand-up gentleman," Mr. Manzione said. "He was a good 
family man, and a very, very good individual. I tell you, I'm at a 
loss. When I heard about this yesterday, I say, 'Something's wrong 
here.' I'm flabbergasted by this whole situation."

Beyond Mr. Manzione and a few other local business owners, Mr. 
Mondella seemed to keep to himself.

He did not live in the neighborhood. He bypassed the meetings and 
community events many local residents organized after the hurricane in 2012.

"Until yesterday, I had no idea there was a big cherry place," said 
Susan Saunders, an employee at the New York Printing & Graphics shop 
opposite Fairway Market. "After Sandy, we went to all these meetings 
and got to know everybody, but not him."

A woman who answered the phone at Mr. Mondella's home on Wednesday 
said his family did not want to talk to reporters.

Mr. Mondella told Crain's New York in January that the business was 
profitable, with $20 million in revenue a year and clients including 
T.G.I. Friday's and Checkers.

On Tuesday, investigators from the Brooklyn district attorney's 
office, the state's Department of Environmental Conservation and the 
city's Department of Environmental Protection arrived at the plant to 
search for evidence relating to accusations that Dell's had been 
dumping toxic substances into Red Hook's water supply.

The investigators' search warrant was for files, nothing more - but 
when they searched Mr. Mondella's office, something else caught their 
attention.

"They saw this shelving unit in his office and they also smelled the 
whiff of marijuana," the law enforcement official said. "They said, 
'What's behind here?' "

As they prepared to return with another search warrant, Mr. Mondella 
excused himself to use the bathroom, where he stayed for a long time. 
When investigators tried to coax him out, he asked them to get his sister.

"Take care of my kids," he said. Then the gun went off.

Al Baker contributed reporting.
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MAP posted-by: Jay Bergstrom