CHICAGO (MCT) — A decorated World War II vet-turned-bomb-maker in his 80s. His quirky, impulsive son, a former trick bicyclist who stole more than a million dollars in jewelry heists. A thick-armed, tattooed Outlaw biker and pawn shop owner who fenced the ill-gotten goods. A businessman, now so sickly he leans on a cane, who oversaw illegal video poker machines.

And Michael "the Large Guy" Sarno, who brought the most important contribution: power and control over a slice of Chicago's lucrative but dangerous organized-crime territory as a reputed longtime Chicago Outfit figure.

Together they emerged as a thuggish, if outlandish, street crew who robbed, skimmed and ultimately bombed their way to illegal profits, prosecutors say.

On Wednesday, Sarno was too choked with emotion to finish his prepared remarks to the judge, so his lawyer stepped in as Sarno's family wept openly. But U.S. District Judge Ronald Guzman was not swayed, sentencing Sarno to 25 years in prison — the maximum allowed under federal law.

The scene had been remarkably different in December 2010 after a federal jury convicted Sarno of racketeering charges and he was taken into custody. Then he blew a defiant kiss toward reporters as he was ushered from the courtroom. On Wednesday he turned toward his family and blew them a kiss after the judge imposed what Sarno's lawyers said they feared was a death sentence because of his age — 54 — and health problems that include diabetes.

"How long is it that anybody actually thinks he's got (left)?" asked Sarno's attorney, Jeffrey Steinback, during a lengthy and impassioned plea for mercy. "He is not going to live 25 years. Nobody thinks that."

Sarno repeatedly fought back tears by shaking his head and shoulders during the lengthy two-and-a-half-hour hearing. He exhaled deeply to keep his composure or looked toward the ceiling lights. His lips quivered when his attorneys talked of a father who didn't "give a damn" about him.

But he still wiped at the occasional tear.

Terence Gillespie, another Sarno attorney who calmed his client a few times, said they plan an appeal.

Assistant U.S. Attorney Amarjeet Bhachu, in arguing for the 25-year sentence, talked of Sarno's long history with the Ferriola street crew in Chicago.

Bhachu said Sarno had the "dubious distinction" of having been convicted of similar crimes in the 1990s, a fact he said demanded a sentence that would "incapacitate him" and "protect the public."

"This man is incorrigible," the prosecutor said.

Sarno was the last to be sentenced of five crew members who were convicted of racketeering by a federal jury a few days before Christmas of 2010. In addition, four others, including two former corrupt west suburban police officers, pleaded guilty to federal charges in hopes of obtaining reduced prison sentences.

Among those to go to trial with Sarno was Mark Polchan, whose Cicero pawn shop was the epicenter of the conspiracy. The crew used the shop for meetings and to store and sell stolen goods.

What the crew didn't realize was that federal authorities bugged the place with audio and video equipment. Sarno and Polchan were caught on the undercover recordings discussing the illegal video poker racket that led them to bomb a rival Berwyn business, C & S Coin Operated Amusements.

Polchan, 44, was slapped with 60 years in prison, the longest sentence of the crew.

Casey Szaflarski made weekly rounds to collect cash from the crew's illegal video poker machines — and then made out bogus receipts to avoid paying taxes on the profits. Szaflarski, 53, who is frail with several reported illnesses, was sentenced earlier this week to 40 months in prison.

But a father and son provided the most comical and curious element to the trial.

Samuel Volpendesto was born in 1924 and earned a Bronze Star in World War II for saving a crew from a sinking ship in the Pacific as part of a U.S. Navy team. He went on to study art and became a sculptor before hooking up with the Sarno crew through connections at pawn shops.

During the trial his gleeful voice was heard on undercover recordings talking about the bombing. Prosecutors alleged he made pipe bomb and said his ties to the Chicago Outfit went back to mob figures with links to the Capone era.

Despite some 100 previous arrests, his conviction in this case was his first. He was sentenced to 35 years in prison, the minimum allowed under the law. He is now 87.

On the other hand, his son, Anthony Volpendesto, had been convicted nearly 30 times in a long criminal career fueled in part by drug use, according to his attorneys. He had the added distinction of being a former trick bicyclist who on occasion would speed away from jewelry robberies on a bike. Prosecutors tagged him with stealing more than a million dollars in loot in this case.

Volpendesto, 50, was given 15 years in prison, a sentence that will run consecutive to prison terms he was already serving out of state.

As for Sarno, during the trial in 2010, he sat to the side in the courtroom — a spot prosecutors noted was similar to how he operated his criminal enterprise. Away from the spotlight.

The judge also made note Wednesday of Sarno's stealth practices — like using code words and multiple phones. But in the end, he was not clever enough, the judge said.

"There is a clear need to send a message (to those) wanting to follow in the defendant's footsteps," Guzman said. "That it would be unwise to do so."

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