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House Of Cards: The Curse Of Alfonso

Written by: RJ. Rocky Scarfone:
A Biography of the Life Of Rock and his Family.
@1986 by JB, all rights reserved.
Revised Edition Copyright 1996
International Book Service Number 0-9657066-1-3
M.A.G.I.C. Press is a Division of The Lighthouse Sanctuary For Youth Foundation
1426 Webb Gin House Rd, 30245
Lawrenceville, Georgia
770-736-6890

FOREWORD

Welcome to: The Lore of Father Figure and The Oath of alfonso. [1986 name and title]

The Lore of Father Figure and The Oath of alfonso is based on a true story. An his-story encompassing the life and times of a young boy named "Joe"[rock] and his Italian-American family whom were deeply entrenched in the ways of the Black Hand -- the Mafia. You are about to journey to a world that will begin with death and end with life. Along this hard, action packed, fast paced road, you will discover, just as Joe did, the powerful truth and devastating results of The Curse Of alfonso; A Curse that will lead our adventurer through a series of drastic trials and tribulations. His continual quest for love, compassion, and truth will take you through the many roads and by-ways of ultimate understanding: Peace and Happiness are only delivered through the awesome gift of the power and grace of God.

Therefore, I have taken the liberty of creating an introduction of Six stages placed strategically throughout the two books, each a fictional accounting of factual knowledge concerning the main story and my personal beliefs in God, with the Holy Word Of GOD as told through The Book Of Life and Truth, The Bible, encouraging it's foundation As to the balance of these writings, due to the length and vast amount of fact and adventure, I have chosen to compress and detail only the main events that dictate the course of His-story. The chapters of Book One, The Oath of alfonso, depicting the beginnings of my family, from 1908 through the death of my father, Joe-Pep, in 1962, are based on a true story: the information having been exposed and told through Uncle Eddy, Nana Lou, Angela, Aunt Josi and other individuals--including the Federal Bureau of Investigation, The New York Daily News, The New York Times, informants, and present day " Mafia Wise Guys". All though this portion of history is depicted and retold as accurate as memories and information allow, fictional license was taken to describe situations of personal conversations and events of the written subjects. As to Book Two, Father Figure, all events as seen, experienced, and told are completely factual, though, for reasons of protection, anonymity, and space constraints, occasional dates, times, and names have been altered or changed.

"Special thanks" to "Tony-Black" of Miami, "Tony-Pep" of Atlanta, "Fat-Freddy" of Hallendale, Florida, "Tony-Thumbs" of Hollywood, Florida, "Joey Tre" of Miami, "Johnny A" of Atlanta, "Angelo" of Atlanta, "Rocky R" of Atlanta, and "Rock Crusher" for providing the opportunity to become an "associate" of the Gambino Crime Family and discover the myths, truths, ways, and life styles that led to my father's death-- and the spirit and inspiration to pen this "self biographical novel". Also, I would like to thank John of the Atlanta Bureau of the FBI. Don, Joe, Chuck, Bobby, Steve, Shawn, and others of the FBI, Secret Service, and Organized Crime Strike forces whom place their lives at the battle front of the on-going war against the evil legacy of death and destruction wrought through Organized Crime."

In HIS name:.

RJ. "Rocky" Scarfone

Is There Life After Death....

Words of Wisdom

"Be careful, I love you!" Mother's cry.
Our cherished authors whom plagiarize
those words of wisdom that rectify
our thoughts and feelings piper pied...

Harry entered the terminal care wing of the hospital in search of his wife. Passing a glass enclosed, five bed ward, he noticed her making rounds and stumbled into the room. The sight of a patient caused him to stop dead in his tracks...

She lay directly within his line of vision. Propped upon the bed. Tubes running, like a modern, crowded freeway under construction, in and out of her body. They entered and exited her frail five foot frame with out warning, depositing their cargo of massive amounts of morphine, oxygen, and nutrients. He knew -- and he was sure she did also -- the numbers were absent from the dice... but he also knew he wouldn't peep a squeak.

As he strolled past the bed, he was determined to force himself to display some sort of candor or irrelevance towards death's own determination. Though, he was sure, death knew his end: for death towered the dismal hospital room with it's odors and bleak, pale, white entourage. He was immediately struck by a terrible thought... Like man in his determination for power and wealth, did the devouring beast of cancer reckon it's own quick death at birth and rush to it's end in an effort at life? He could not answer himself nor could he comprehend her misery: Who was this woman? Did she ever realize her wishes, her hopes, her dreams? What were her thoughts? She seemed outwardly unconcerned in her pained and drugged state, but a slight trembling of her lips, quivering with untold efforts at persuasive thought, and hands tightly clasped in prayer, seemed to deliver a message of some awesome belief that God could defeat the enemy with in.

Harry's wife, seeing him in such a mesmerized state, called him over with the sound of air expelled through her teeth.... "Psst!"

"Honey, who is that woman? She has this sort... sort of... aura. One that freezes you."

"Her name is Jeanette. She has terminal cancer. I spoke of her with her priest yesterday... and her daughter Angela. Today her son Eddy visited and while she rested we spoke some more of her life. It's a long and terribly sorrowful tale about a curse of continuation which has destroyed her family for five generations. In fact her son, Joe, is one of a long line of family men whom have inherited this legacy; a legacy which has placed him at odds with his mother--she has not seen him in years. Well Harry, he's coming in today! Now, I have to work a double shift. Why don't you go home and I'll tell you the story tomorrow..."

Harry turned on his heels and left the room. On his way down to his car he thought of only one thing: Is there life after death?...

Binky and the nut
"A Pecan nut upon the ground!"
Sir. Squirrel excited he had found
"Pecan nuts from an Oaken tree,
Not Walnut, Chestnut nor Hickory!
Yes, a Pecan nut if you please
A miracle forged enough for three!"
An' Chirped an' Chirped
Round an' round
So loud Sly Rabbit caught his sound
"A Pecan nut you say you've found?
Tossed upon an oak nut ground?
Let me view it for a while
Sly Rabbit said with a dainty smile
"Though smooth and striped."
Sly rabbit piped
"...And even brushed in brown!.."
"...A squiggly crease.
Could be a feast"
Sly Rabbit then did frown...
With long tall ears
He shook to hear
If it made a sound...
No rattle tattled
Or even prattled
Of what Sir. Squirrel found!
So, he snatched a rock
And gave it a knock
And came up with a prize
A giant lump
So Sweet and plump
It made him tell a lie!
"Along the crease
which held a feast
Thus I did divide."
"Old and musty
slightly crusty
was the meat inside!"
Thus revealed
He turned on his heel
And hopped along his way
Surprised he pondered
Sir Squirrel wondered
"What did Sly Rabbit Say?...
...Old and musty
Slightly crusty
Was the meat inside?!"
For in the shell
A squirrel could tell
With out having to divide...
Must be the flavor
That caught his disfavor
Because he is a Hare.
He didn't have time
To show him his find
And it made no sense to share...
So...Sir Squirrel bent down
Where he had found
The pecan nut in shell
He thought he had plenty
After picking up twenty
An' went to the burrow he dwelled....

In the year of the beast, Nineteen Hundred and Twenty Eight...

Beneath a terrified Battle Field Earth, in a dark, sinister, blood-red cavern, the bellowing Beast, the Evil Knight of Darkness, sat upon an imposing throne of contorted human skulls; stripped of their flesh, their chalk-white bony mouths, in a rhythm of perpetual motion, screamed, prayed and begged-- their chorus of infinite pleadings for another chance only adding to a din of eternal torment permeating the huge and fiery gathering of Demonic Warriors.

"Let it be known throughout the Realm of Darkness, on this One Thousandth, Nine Hundred and Twenty Eighth Day of Earth, AD, that Antonio Squirm in Blood Feranzi, Lieutenant of The Third Degree, is hereby Promoted to Captain of The Red Forward Warriors Of The Devils Brigade! Come here and except your dishonor."

Captain Feranzi hesitantly approached the platform. Aware of the Beast's ferocious appetite for Warrior Skulls, he was frightened the Beast would promote him and then order his soul to join those of the Court of Gesture: The ultimate fate for all condemned souls... including his. 'If he could continue to produce, then maybe, just maybe, he could remain an active Warrior,' he thought, as he meekly stood before the platform.

"You now have a problem, 'Captain'!" The Beast began...

The cavern instantly became quiet with all lost souls and active Warriors viewing the newly promoted Captain's countenance; anicipative in jeer for him to join in their misery, a deep, low, hum of chanting began to evolve.

"Take. Take. Take Take. Take...

..."I desire the soul of Antonio! I demand the Soul of Antonio. He is not with the program. What will you do." The Beast said gently in sarcastic voice.

"Take. Take. Take. Take. Take... The chanting continued.

"Sire, I am presently working on Antonio. We already have alfonso in our grasps, and we shall received his entire lineage in due time! All are living---excuse the pun your Majesty---down to their bargain of death. You will have all many skulls and souls before the year is up! I will also deliver Franky's soul into your grasps."

"Well, confidence, ay?" The Beast cracked out loud. "YOU HAVE CONFIDENCE DO YOU?" He screamed louder. "I DO NOT WANT ANTONIO'S OR ANYONE ELSES SKULL YET! I WANT THEM ON EARTH CONDUCTING MY ORDERS!!"

The chanting grew louder.

"Take. Take. Take his skull. TAKE HIS SKULL. TAKE HIS SKULL!"

"And if you make a wrong move, if Antonio joins The Knight of Good over Evil, I will take yours and every one of your descendants souls and skulls on earth... NOW! DO YOU HEAR MY OATH... CAPTAIN?"

The Captain, his terror gleefully familiar to the multitude, stuttered his reply. "Oh, Lord of Darkness, I shall deliver to your specifications. I shall deliver an ugly mortal death to Jimmy. I shall deliver alfonso and all of his descendants to your service. I shall impose your will of sadness, suffering and destruction to all involved---and dedicated through alfonso's contract! May I place my skull upon your throne if I fail!"

The cavern exploded in wails and chants and misery to the delight of The Evil Knight of Darkness. The Beast, wallowing in the self-pity and torment of his subjugated souls, let out a tremendous roar of pain and suffering: Agony ruled the walls, floors, ceilings--and very throne.

"Ah, Captain, your soul delivers the warmth of fire and brimstone to my cold, cold, heart. Return to earth and do battle for me! NOW!"

The Captain abruptly turned into the masses of Demon Warriors and grabbed hold of several Lieutenants of the first through third rankings; they then scurried through the Tunnel of Damnation for their journey back to Battle Field Earth.

"General Grogeninin, come here!" The Beast commanded.

"Yes Sire," The General said as he bowed upon one knee.

"I command you to offer in sacrifice, several million living souls on Battle field Earth--this instance. Rain sorrow. Deliver pain. Cause misery. The battle field must be joined!"

The screaming and moaning deep within the blood-red, fiery cavern was soon joined by an earthly misery of sorrow.... WARMING THE COLD BLACK HEART OF THE BEAST!

IN the year of our Lord, 1908-- as it was called in those days -- a ship under the "flag" of US Industrial Works sailed packed to the deck with natives of Naples, Italy. The perishable, illiterate cargo crammed into its hold included the Dicanio family; believing the word prosperity was discovered on the great shores of America, alfonso Dicanio signed on to work for this trafficker of profits and was given free passage for himself and his family. In a secret pocket, along with other valuables constituting the wealth of his entire clan, he carried one of the flyers which circulated the small village he came from. It told a tale of riches which could be gained by signing on to work for this industrial giant. This great benefactor would supply all you desired: a home, a job, plenty to eat! "Just sign here and we will pay all your expenses." For alfonso, a smart and aggressive, yet poor business man, it was not a difficult decision. Bolstering the invitation was the old fable of the emigrant, whom upon arriving in New York City observed a ten dollar bill lying on a cobble stone street: Being exhausted from his long journey, he decided to leave it where it was and get some rest, returning the next day to pick it up. When he returned the ten was gone -- replaced by a twenty dollar bill! By the time the tale reached Dicanio's village, the twenty grew to one hundred! Yes! America: rich, generous, compassionate; willing to share its wealth with all who came! Thousands of acres of land for grab...

The lumbering ship docked at the Brooklyn pier in New York City. alfonso's family, worn out from the long journey, stood propped one against the other upon its filthy, muck-encrusted deck, amazed at the sheer size of the smog shrouded city. Gazing at the wharf, teeming with emigrants speaking in a multitude of tongues, alfonso Dicanio hurried to produce documents which would speed up the perplexing immigration process; a process the agents of US Industrial Works spoke of in their quest for souls. Without these documents, he would have been unable to enter this great new country as a man of connection. Instead, he would have entered at Ellis Island as a lowly man where W.O.P. (with-out-papers) would be stamped on his immigration documents. Thus, he and his family would have begun the horrible and fearful process: health check, quarantine, separation, and a host of other terrible things -- including possible deportation.

alfonso Dicanio and his family soon were whisked through customs and taken to their new home. He soon realized the information he was given was but a fabrication. The "Home" turned out to be a squalid tenement on the lower east side of Manhattan; the "Job", a 5 a.m. To 7 p.m. back-breaking laborer's position; the "Plenty to eat", scarce. He attempted to go his own way and was told to go back to work--or he would be deported. He went back to work.

In 1913, after five years of desperate times in harsh, miserable conditions, alfonso screamed a sacrilegious oath against GOD: "GOD why have you put us in this place! I would give my soul to Lucifer in exchange for prosperity!"

The following day a man appeared and informed alfonso his services were desired by his "family". He stated alfonso could become quite wealthy, but once alfonso agreed to participate in unison with his "family", he was destined never to turn back! alfonso agreed with this bargain and a "sit down" was arranged with the neighborhood representative of the Black Hand --the predecessor to the Mafia-- Antonio Feranzi.

Antonio Feranzi was a "man of respect" aligned with gangster Salvatore Maranzano's. Maranzano and his family operated from Sicily but had strong ties to America. In 1925, Maranzano himself would come to America where he would rise in power to become head of one of two Black Hand families battling for supreme control of the seedy and dangerous underworld. Until the dawn of mobster Salvatore "Charlie Lucky" Luciano --the true organizer of the modern day Mafia-- he would rule with an iron fist and stiletto.

Harry, you see, The Black Hand originated in Sicily as a small guerrilla force to combat the many oppressors that ruled this island south of mainland Italy. Viking, Arab, Norman, the list of conquerors varied with the power and politics at the given time. These men soon came to be known as Men of Respect: They respected their fellow brethren, country, and native traditions. Openly opposed to the ruling classes, they assisted the berated population in everything from housing and loans to settling disputes --to the people they were the government. Eventually, as the oppressors were defeated through changing world events, these men of respect evolved and Evil entered the fray: power married greed giving birth to an evil, sinister, repulsive creature named Sicilian Organized Crime.

Organized crime would continue to breed, producing defective offspring along the way. Eventually, a collection of these cloned misfits arrived in every Italian community across the globe; dominating, thriving, and perpetuating in their vile, greedy, self-indulging ways. Their rule was enforced with guns, baseball bats, moltov-cocktails and explosives. Only men composed this death-inspiring monstrosity. They utilized their own laws of fear and intimidation on one hand---"benevolence and compassion" on the other. You had to "agree" with the first "law" to receive the second "law"(which was always upheld by the first law). By the time of alfonso Dicanio's arrival the Black Hand had sown its treacherous seeds of destruction; seeds which were sprouting and blooming into massive, cannibalizing, soul-eating, Venus fly-traps. Firmly rooted in the rich, fertile soil of alfonso's immigrant neighborhood, this mutated abnormality fed off the hopes and dreams of its brethren... the very descendants of its once proud ancestors.

Harry, The Black Hand was the true mover and shaker of the Italian community; holding its own "court" from strategically placed "social clubs" in each neighborhood. From these dens of inequity, "justice" would be dispensed and "favors" granted with a twitch of an eye or a puff of a cigar. Petitioners whom had connections would use an associate of a particular family as their "attorney", thereby assuring a greater chance of success, while others would proceed alone. Whichever way they chose, a fact remained: for a favor granted, a small favor was requested in return---your soul.

alfonso, along with this messenger of "hope", called on this "Man of Respect" to plead his case. In his native tongue, he asked for assistance with his problem.

"Don Feranzi, I am forever in your debt, how can a humble man such as I assist such a great man as you?"

"Senior alfonso, it is you who come asking for a favor. I have the power to grant much. But you must give your heart, your mind, your body, yes even your soul to "the family". For we are a special family of power and wealth. Do you desire wealth and entrance to this special family?"
     alfonso sat back and thought for a moment of this question, after all, he was just going to join a highly respected family of men of honor whose families went to Church, spoke of GOD, believed in HIM, and ran their business with an iron fist -- for the good of the people! 'If I could buy a house and have money than I could help my family!' His thoughts ended.
     "Don Feranzi, I offer all that I am to your family. I give to you the allegiance of my family as long as we breath the very air!"
     Feranzi, sitting across from alfonso, looked deep into alfonso's eyes. He could see the possibilities of this bargain. Several generations of souls to adapt, connive, steal and enslave -- along with all of the extras: wives, sons, daughters, mothers, aunts, friends! The list just grew. "Senior alfonso, "I will help you... Feranzi began, "...but remember--you ask something of me and I demand all of you! If I ask something of you... what will your answer be?"
     Mr. alfonso Dicanio, with the dignity his word of honor called for, rose to his full height and in a proud, sincere voice, replied, "Just ask and I will obey!"
     "Mr. Respect" offered his manicured hand. On a three carat diamond ring that sat on Mr. Racketeer's pinkie, alfonso placed the kiss which would seal his bargain.
     As simple as that his problem was "fixed"---or was it?

alfonso believed he had readily paid the gangster with his promise of equal favor---due upon request; his problem would be "fixed" and the souls of his descendants would be assured a proper place in heaven after living a happy, bountiful life on earth. He would never fully realize that he had mortgaged his soul... and the souls of seven generations with a payment plan that was sure to go into receivership -- the outcome being a life in Purgatory and an eternity in Hell. By the time alfonso realized the sacrilege that he had committed it would be too late!
     Mr. Respect sent a message to the President of US Industrial Works by way of a loyal underling, Angelo "The Ape" Depicio. It was delivered that very same day.
     The President of U.S.I.W. was a Protestant business man from an established, wealthy family and an associate of the elite inner circle of social upper-crust leaders that ran NY State. His ties to the international business community extended to Palermo, Sicily; a city from which the "man of respect" imported his olive oil -- along with his Soldiers of The Hand. His relationship to the underworld would eventually deliver political power and he would rise to become a leading member of Tammani Hall (the leading democratic organization that set rules and elected most of the key party politicians of New York). The note was simple and direct:

Remove A. Dicanio from the roster and see that Mr. Berkowitz confidentially extends his assistance in securing our student a position in the Acme Land Sales office. Let me know how that last recruitment fared. The ship should be docking in two weeks.

AF.

Over the course of the next five years alfonso became a successful real estate agent--with the help of the Black Hand.

In 1918, "Mr. Respect" summoned alfonso to "to a sit down".

"Mr. Dicanio, I have need of your talents. I am entering into a real estate venture in Queens. I want you to assume full responsibility for this venture. I want you to employ your son Antonio... Go see Irwin Berkowitz. His new office is downtown... Franky Boy has the address. Get it from him before you leave."
     alfonso, now in business with an associate of Don Maranzano, asked his son Antonio to join him. But Antonio complained that Feranzi's reputation was bad; "People killed and pillaged under his command" -- "Feranzi was the Devil's helper!"
     alfonso replied that rumor and innuendo did not a devil make -- "I know what I'm doing" -- "We will engage only in legitimate business" -- "I need you... my son Antonio".

Harry, alfonso never informed Antonio he had been commanded to employ him. Antonio, the good son that he was, joined his father. With pride and gusto they went to work together earning the admiration and cash of this "man of respect"---and their damnation!