Gambino capo Nicholas (Little Nick) Corozzo is a capable street-smart good fellow who has long been considered bright enough to have mob star potential. 

Back in 1996, both wiseguys and law enforcement officials viewed Corozzo as the heir apparent to the crime family’s then jailed-for-life leader, John Gotti, the late Dapper Don. 

The Mafia Commission, with Genovese boss Vincent (Chin) Gigante serving as the ruling body’s 500-pound gorilla, had pressured Gotti to step aside. And according to FBI documents, Corozzo, with tacit approval from Gene and Peter Gotti, had agreed to take over, after all appeals of the Dapper Don’s convictions had been exhausted.

Corozzo’s ascension, however, was derailed by two racketeering convictions. Now, on the eve of his release from federal prison eight years later, Little Nick is once again poised to take over the top spot, according to sources on both sides of the law. 

“He wants it, and he wants it badly,”a plugged-in law enforcement official said about Corozzo, 64, who was scheduled to be released today from a federal prison in Ashland, Kentucky. Already, sources say, acting family boss Arnold (Zeke) Squitieri, 67, has indicated he will not stand in Corozzo’s way.

First, however, Corozzo has three years of pretty strict supervised release restrictions to overcome. Then, there’s the little matter of Peter Gotti, the family’s

official boss. Serving nine years for racketeering, and facing a possible 20 more for plotting to kill Salvatore (Sammy Bull) Gravano, the 64-year-old ex-sanitation worker is less qualified than Paulie Walnuts to be a Mafia boss, but he seems to relish the position, and may resist stepping down. 

It is a problem that has plagued the mob – to the glee of authorities – for decades now. For personal gain, glory and gratification, aging and imprisoned-for-life Mafia bosses have throttled their crime families, rendering them virtually rudderless, by steadfastly refusing to step down, for the good of the surviving gangsters.  

“It’s the ‘me’ generation,” said one law enforcement official. “The bosses are just like the skippers (capos), the soldiers, the associates and the hangers-on – out for themselves. Whatever loyalty and tradition these mutts had years ago, is long since gone.” 

In addition to John Gotti, the disease has afflicted Colombo boss Carmine (Junior) Persico and Luchese leader Vittorio (Vic) Amuso. Persico has been in prison since 1984, Amuso since 1991. Both will go home in a body bag. But if they have their way, they’ll be Mafia bosses when they do.

For the record, the last New York Mafia boss to step aside was Luchese boss Anthony (Tony Ducks) Corallo, who did so in 1986 when he got what he knew was a death sentence – 100 years for racketeering in the Commission case. He died four years ago, at age 87. 

Even crazy as a fox Gigante (right) will have spent 13 years behind bars as Genovese boss if he lives to complete his sentence in 2010, at age 82. Meanwhile,  

older brother Mario, who’s 80 now, will soon take over as acting boss, essentially reshaping the Genovese family into the Gigante family, not in name, but in deed. Why not? That’s what Gotti, Persico, (left) and Amuso have all done to the Gambino, Colombo and Luchese families.

Corozzo, whose brother Joseph, 62, is the family’s consigliere, thinks his turn has come, and some knowledgeable Gang Land sources believe he just may be wiseguy to break the cycle. His lawyers declined to comment about his release.

“He’s tough as nails and he’s paid his dues,” said one source.

“He’s as tough as Gotti, and doesn’t have John’s ego,” said another, adding that brother Peter doesn’t have anywhere near the moxie or the stature of his late brother.

Little Nick’s prison stretch – his first in a life of crime – also points to him eventually becoming the Gambino family’s Mr. Big. At the three institutions he called home for seven and a half years, he spent about 18 months in the hole – segregated confinement – for one reason or another. At each place, sources say, Corozzo made sure that inmates and jailers alike knew, that no mater what, he wasn’t going to knuckle under. 

Bonanno associate Patrick (Patty Muscles) Romanello got a weekend furlough from his federal lockup over the weekend to walk his daughter down the aisle and celebrate her marriage at a gala wedding reception Saturday evening.

Romanello, who awaits trial for racketeering and two murder conspiracies – one in 1982 and another in 1990 – got back to the Metropolitan Detention Center in Brooklyn by 4 p.m. Sunday and Gang Land assumes, and hopes, a good time was had by all. 

Just to make sure nothing bad happened, Judge Nicholas Garaufis ordered Patty Muscles to hire a private security guard to make sure he behaved himself, and didn’t get drunk and disorderly at the festivities. Or even worse, like he did at another party in the late 1980s.

According to Bonanno defectors, one night, during a party at the Garden City Hotel, Romanello got into a scuffle with acting Colombo boss Victor (Little Vic) Orena, (left) and pulled a gun on him, not knowing that Orena was a made guy, let alone an acting boss. Definitely a no-no for a mere mob associate.

After discussions and sitdowns between the two families, with Romanelli’s life hanging in the balance, Salvatore (Good Looking Sal) Vitale, opined that the Colombos would likely be satisfied if the Bonannos broke one of Patty Muscles massive arms as punishment. The budding underboss was right.

That’s why, sources said, Romanello checked into a friendly hospital, and had a cast placed on his arm. For the next few weeks, he made sure everyone saw his “broken arm” wherever he went. And why, not long after that, sources say, a very grateful Patty Muscles gave capo Frank (Curly) Lino $20,000 for saving his life, and for not breaking his arm.