They spend leisurely days lounging on crowded beaches, oblivious to the hum of 1,000 conversations, the excited shouts of children, the calls of seagulls, the shrill high-pitched lifeguard whistles, the endless crash and low hiss of the surf and the occasional drone of banner planes advertising restaurants, banks and casinos.

Cooking under a hot sun, these not-so-hard-working gangsters doze in beach chairs, slowly roasting themselves to a disturbingly deep tan. It seems skin cancer may one day be the leading cause of death for local mobsters who escape the feds, or an assassin's bullet.

With looks of profound contentment, some hardcore racketeers patiently watch their children play in the sand, as proud as any law-abiding parent. On the beach, they seem happy to share family time that isn't with their crime family. Still, they studiously ignore their wives, leaving the women to their own devices. The Mafia wives — some are younger, second wives decked out in the latest expensive beachwear fashion — set their beach chairs in a semicircle and, under the shade of clusters of bright beach umbrellas, they chitchat, joke and gossip the day away.

Aware that their wives are seated a few feet away, some of the wiseguys discretely ogle the hot young mothers in skimpy bikinis who push toddler-laden strollers along the hard sand by the surf's edge. Others nap on the sand, waking up to peruse the New York and Philly newspapers — sports section first, of course. Or, they make brief, cryptic calls on their cell phones during which they bark enigmatic commands in gravelly voices before flipping the phone closed and doling out dollars so their kids can buy ice cream from passing vendors.

From a distance, the beaches appear so clogged with humanity, chairs, towels and umbrellas, it looks like you could walk on prone sunbathers from dunes to the water's edge and never touch the sand. It's like Center City rush hour, but the wiseguys love their escape anyway.

"The city's only an hour away," one mob associate vacationing in Margate tells City Paper. "You need to go up for something, it's easy. You're back on the beach by the afternoon. Anyway, it's a good time to be out of the city."

Though they're away from home, the talk of the summer is how violent the city has become with a record level of homicides so far this year. Most of the killings, they say, are about drugs and it's young black men killing young black men.

"In prison, the blacks have strong gangs, like the Muslims," the mob associate explains. "But out on the street, they can't control their own neighborhoods. There's nobody in charge and everybody's killing everybody. It's all drugs. That's why we stay away from that shit."

He's referring to claims that reputed mob boss Joseph "Uncle Joe" Ligambi, who doesn't want made guys trafficking drugs, ordered his men to make their illegal money in any way but narcotics.

"Drugs bring big-time federal time," says the mob associate, noting a general fear of RICO racketeering charges. "Guys start using and it fucks them up. It's crazy shit and it ain't worth the money you make with it."

However, the local mob seems to be making enough illicit money these days; they have plenty to spend at night in the restaurants, nightclubs and casinos in Atlantic City. While Saturday nights are for taking wives to restaurants or shows at the casinos, Friday nights find many married wiseguys strolling through the Tropicana's Quarter or the Borgata in the company of Russian girlfriends.

Several married mobsters from Philly seem to be enjoying the company of young, single Russian women. Some are from Bulgaria, but the not-so-wiseguys don't always seem to understand the geographical distinction, referring to any Eastern European girlfriend as "Russian." (Many Russian and Bulgarian women are working in clubs and restaurants in Atlantic City casinos, which is where they've been picked up by the local mobsters.)

"These women are beautiful," the mob associate says. "I mean, youse only goin' through life once, right cuz?"

On weeknights, the mobsters also spend time in the clubs in Margate or the local restaurants of Ventnor and Margate under the watchful eye of local police and members of the New Jersey State Police Organized Crime Unit.

"The local cops would love to write a citation against some member of organized crime," explains a former Philly cop who specialized in mob-watching. "It's like bragging rights for them, 'Hey, guess who I ticketed last summer?' But since [Joey] Merlino and his crew went to jail, the current crop of Mafia seem more low-key. They're avoiding the spotlight and, most of the time, behaving themselves in public."

That good behavior doesn't stop the state police from occasionally photographing vacationing gangsters as they enter or leave various bars and nightclubs. One law enforcement source claims that New Jersey State Police borrowed a particularly attractive female state trooper from Pennsylvania to cruise the Margate clubs to strike up conversations with wiseguys and gather some first-hand intelligence.

Of course, the Jersey troopers get to enjoy the summer nights when they're off duty, too. They hang out at the Deauville Inn in Strathmere, which is one of the last peaceful nooks along the coast even though it shares a barrier island with Sea Isle City. It's also one of the remaining shore spots that's seemingly mob-free.