Luigi “Baby Shacks” Manocchio, the longtime boss of the New England mob, was known as an old-time wiseguy.

He never flashed any of the bravura of the late Gambino crime boss John Gotti, better known as the Teflon Don. No silk suits. No Cadillacs. No fireworks to entertain the neighborhood. No sound bites for the media throng.

Instead, Manocchio, a small, demure man with a receding hairline, lived a quiet life in an upstairs apartment that he rented above a laundry on Federal Hill.

Still, he ruled the mob with an iron fist, and no criminal in Rhode Island commanded more respect on the street.

Part of the respect came from his title as mob boss, a position he rose to in the early 1990s. But part of it also came from the fact that he served just two years in prison for his role in killing two men.

Back in 1968, Manocchio was part of a team of hit men who offed two renegade bookmakers in a variety store in the city’s Silver Lake neighborhood. After his indictment, Manocchio fled and lived as a fugitive in Europe and New York City for more than a decade. Finally, he surrendered to the authorities and was sentenced to two life terms.

Two years later, in 1985, the state Supreme Court overturned his conviction because the trial judge had erred concerning the trial’s key witness, “Red” Kelley. It turned out that Kelley was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease when he testified.

Manocchio pleaded guilty to a murder conspiracy charge and was released from prison.

Two years on a double-murder rap catapulted Manocchio to legendary status.

Over the years, Manocchio and the police were in a daily cat-and-mouse game. Investigators from the FBI, state police and Providence police departments trailed his every move.

They conducted surveillance on him at restaurants, coffee shops and strip clubs. (Now, he’s charged with extorting protection payments from two of those strip clubs: the Cadillac Lounge and the Satin Doll.) Each morning, they would watch him use the pay phone at Addie’s, a Laundromat on the ground floor of the building where he rented an apartment.

Manocchio has always been immensely proud of his Italian heritage.

Back in the late ’90s, Michael P. Iarossi and Steven G. O’Donnell worked in the state police organized-crime and intelligence unit. Essentially, they were the cats in the cat-and-mouse game on Federal Hill.

One afternoon, Iarossi spotted Manocchio zip around in a beat-up white Buick. The car was at least 10 years old.

Iarossi approached Manocchio, who was alone in the car. The mob boss immediately pulled out his drivers’ license and told the trooper in street clothes that he had just been “playing pinochle at Chippy’s.”

Pinocle is an old card game and Chippy is “Alfred “Chippy” Scivola, a corpulent Rhode Island mobster who once ran a social club in Providence.

Manocchio recognized the trooper, but couldn’t recall his name.

“Lieutenant Iarossi from the state police,” the policeman said.

Manocchio became visibly agitated. He did not like the fact that a state trooper was of Italian descent.

“You’re an Italian-American. I’m an Italian-American,” the mobster said. “Don’t you realize that our people were held down for years?”

Manocchio even compared the plight of Italian-Americans to that of Native Americans. He accused Iarossi of “selling out.”

Manocchio parked his car and walked toward his apartment. Before entering the back door, he turned, smiled and waved to the trooper.

Upon his release from prison for the double murder, Manocchio’s name frequently popped up in federal and state police wiretaps. There would be references to “Louie,” “The Boss” or “The Old Man,” but he would always dodge an arrest or indictment.

In the late ’90s, he was arrested and pleaded guilty to having a stolen refrigerator and dishwasher installed in his elderly mother’s house in the city’s Mount Pleasant neighborhood.

Around that time, there was a lot of speculation about Manocchio’s nickname. The Providence Journal had learned from an organized-crime source that the mobster had mistakenly been called “Baby Shanks” for years. His rightful nickname was “Baby Shacks,” for having a baby face in his younger years and a reputation for “shacking up” with various women.

Even as he moved into his 70s, Manocchio was still known as a ladies man.

After Manocchio was arrested for the stolen appliances, State Police Col. Brendan P. Doherty, then a mob investigator asked Manocchio whether it was “Baby Shanks” or “Baby Shacks.”

Manocchio, always the gentleman, provided the detective with a calm response.

“Brendan,” he said. “What does it really matter?”

In the past two years, Manocchio began to drift away from the rackets and spend more time in Florida. Investigators say that the shots are now called from Boston.