Chapter
1 – Birth of a New Kind of Mobster
“A government of criminals and
sinful men is no government at all,” old man, Russell Tranquillo says as part
of his daily wisdom.
“We ought to cap all those
bastards. That’s what our founding fathers did,” my brother, Cesare Campione,
says.
Russell hits him upside the head
with a dirty rag and says, “They killed other soldiers and drove out the whores
of the crown. Violence was their last resort, so we should do the same.”
“Voting and protesting haven’t been
working. What else can we do?” I ask.
“Think, Vicenzo. Unlike your
brother, think. What else can we do?”
Considering it for a second, I say,
“I can only think of things that are illegal.”
“So what if it is? Is it sinful?”
“Given our situation, I don’t think
so.”
“Remember. Laws are made by men,
but what’s right and wrong is decided by God, who is truth and love itself.
Remember that, boys.”
Cesare and I nod, look at one
another, and then continue our work with the other boys on the cars around us.
On our break, Cesare lights a
cigarette and says, “I rigged some of those cop cars to break down. I hope
those pigs get in an accident.”
“Idiot. They’re going to figure out
it was our shop that tinkered with those cars. If they can falsely accuse Great
War veterans of drunkenness and get away with it, they can shake us down for
less,” I say and hit Cesare upside the head.
“You’re right. They shot and killed
Earl Puramente when they tried to rob him. I heard his father, Amoroso
Puramento, is with the mob. He’s already lost most of his kids in the Great
War, and now this? He has to be mad. I’m telling you. We have to do something.”
“Soon, Cesare. Soon. The Great War
veterans say they have us covered during this upcoming election, so the chief
of police can’t rig it again.”
“Do you really think they aren’t
going to walk all over them like they usually do? Just because they’re veterans
doesn’t mean they have any official power as the cops do.”
I can only grunt in response.
“Thought so. We have to become made
men, men of honor.”
“Our parents wouldn’t approve of
that.”
“So what if they don’t? They
respect and talk to them. Without those members of the mob, some families
wouldn’t be able to feed their families and still be harassed by the cops.”
“We can be a friend of theirs, but
not direct members of their groups, and still get some of their benefits.”
“Some, but not all. They won’t tell
anyone who isn’t a made member everything, and didn’t you say that it’s best to
know as much as possible before acting? Maybe they can get us secrets from
their friends in the government to get you that governor job you want.”
“What about you? What would you do
as a made man?”
“Go where you go, brother. I may
want to put my neck on the line for others literally, but you want to do it by
going into politics, and that’s crazier than what I have planned. More people
will want you dead if you try to change the system from within. Don’t you
remember what happened to that general who said we fought against the wrong
side and was trying to make changes?”
“I remember.”
“Think about it, like you always
do. You’ll come to see that your stupid brother isn’t as stupid as he seems.”
“You aren’t stupid, Cesare. Just a
little too headstrong and loving.”
The day of the election comes, and
sure enough, the cops are watching the polls and bullying the people to vote
for the current administration. Seeing this, the Great War vets push back
against the cops, and violence breaks out to the point where the cops take the
voting machine and boxes to a walled prison to be counted. In Russell’s car
mechanics shop, Russell, Cesare, our friends, our family, and all the veterans
sit in dread as we hear the votes being counted.
One of the veterans stands up and
says, “Soldiers! We fought and risked our lives to prevent tyranny in another
country. Why can’t we do the same here in our own home?! We have a God-given
right to do so, and our families, our neighbors are depending on us, so why
don’t we do something rather than just sitting on our asses?!”
Everyone in the shop cheers. The
veterans go to their friend in the army supply depot and arm everyone willing
to take up arms, including Cesare, many of the city’s residents, and me. The
veterans and Russell tell everyone to try not to kill anyone and only injure
them.
Russell reminds everyone that,
“We’re doing the right thing. We’re not doing this as an excuse to murder those
bastards, even though they deserve it. The government won’t let us get away
with it otherwise.”
The armed crowds walk through the
streets as everyone else in the city cheers us on. We’re met by the police who
tell us to disperse or else, and we refuse to unless we see that the ballots
are fairly counted and don’t include fake votes. They deny us, and we deny them
peace. The veterans at the front of the crowd open fire, injuring all the cops,
and continue to the prison, where the voting machines and boxes are. Meanwhile,
the crowds take their vengeance on the cops by beating them up, but not to the
point of killing them.
At the prison, the veterans demand
that we see the votes. When they’re denied again, the veterans shoot at the
prison and blow up the chief of police’s and the mayor’s personal cars with
dynamite, threatening to shoot through the windows next. Seeing they’re
outnumbered, the cops surrender, and the votes are counted correctly. The man
the people wanted in office is elected, and the city celebrates. The government
tries to investigate what happened, but no one on our side says a word, and all
records of guns and ammo being taken are erased, so they’re forced to accept
the election results. With their allies, the rightfully elected officials put
in jail everyone who rigged the elections, as well as the cops and officials
who abused the civilians they were meant to serve.
Again, the city celebrates. At the
party at the Delicato Restaurant, Russell tells us, “See? This is what happens
with the right tools, connections, and actions. This is the perfect result. No
one died, and those who deserved to face punishment got what they deserved.”
“You’re right, old man. I must
admit you are right,” Cesare says as he smokes.
“I always am, or at least most of
the time I am.”
We all laugh and have a good time.
Some days later, a gang of bikers invades the same restaurant where we were
celebrating. They act rowdy and drunk, and start scaring away everyone in and
around the area. Seeing this, Cesare and I go up to them and tell them to stop.
The bikers laugh at us and try to get us to loosen up by drinking and eating
with them.
“Look at these kids trying to tell
us what to do!” they say.
“Why don’t you work on my bike like
you usually do?”
“Go back to your boss or party with
us, grease monkeys. Just don’t ruin our good time.”
Cesare and I look at the bartender,
who is looking expectantly at us as if silently asking for help, so we oblige. Cesare
and I grab a bottle each of alcohol that the bikers are drinking out of and
smash them across their faces. The rest of the bikers jump up and throw
themselves at us, excited to fight. They sloppily throw punches at us, but when
they hit us, we get hit hard. I try to keep my distance and use chairs to help
me get them down, while Cesare mostly uses his fists, nearby bottles, and
utensils on the tables.
Bringing the fight outside, we’re knocked
down and get up, ready to continue the fight. We’re pretty beat up, whereas the
bikers seem more affected by the alcohol than by all the cuts and bruises on
them. They’re about to attack us until they see what we see and laugh at us.
“You grease monkeys can’t beat us!”
they say.
“We’re still standing, and we’re
drunk out of our minds!”
“You’d best get out of here while
you still can.”
“I can say the same thing to you,”
Cesare says.
“We won’t let you mess with our
neighborhood without a fight!” I add.
Before we can charge at the bikers,
a group of men in suits runs up and steps in between us. Some have bats in
their hands. Others have brass knuckles. The men in suits beat up the bikers
and smash up their bikes.
“Get the hell out of our
neighborhood!” one of the men in suits says.
“Remember who did this to you!”
Everyone else sees the fleeing
injured bikers and beats them so that every biker who caused a scene leaves in
an ambulance. Angelo Delicato walks out of the restaurant, observes what’s
happening, and looks at us. He comes up to us and puts a hand on our shoulders.
“I’m proud of you boys. You acted
like real men,” Angelo says.
“I’d be less of a man if I acted
otherwise,” I say.
“That’s right. You put your lives
on the line, even though you were outnumbered and could’ve been killed.”
“Did we do something wrong? Do you
need us to help you clean up your restaurant? We will,” Cesare asks.
“You’re not in trouble. In fact, I
think you’ll like what I’m offering you. Come back inside my restaurant.” Going
inside the restaurant, Angelo takes us to the furthest corner of it and says in
a low voice, “Russell told me you’re interested in helping the family, possibly
becoming members. If you do a few favors for us, that can be arranged.”
Cesare is elated and automatically
accepts it and asks what we have to do.
Angelo doesn’t say anything or even
look at him. Instead, he looks at me in silence.
“What’s wrong, Vincenzo? This is your
ticket to changing the country like you want,” Cesare asks me.
“You’re right, but there’s more to
it. I don’t want to do anything that I’ll have a guilty conscience for later,”
I say.
Angelo smiles and says, “You won’t
have to. We’re a new kind of family, unlike those savages in suits who were out
for themselves and their own. You see me in church, Vincenzo. You know I do
good work for the community with my own money and two hands. I sweat and bleed
for everyone who deserves it. If you don’t like what you do, then you can
always back off. We only ask that you don’t say anything about the more…sensitive
aspects. As far as I can see from you marching with the veterans on the corrupt
cops and standing up for the neighborhood like you did today, you’re already a
man of honor. What do you say?”
I look at Cesare, back at Angelo,
and say, “Alright. I’ll help out. Tell us what we need to do.”
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