Chapter Five: Harry, we're talking respect, tradition, family...

The year was 1931---Antonio was no longer independent, but part of the Maranzano family which was at war with "Joe The Boss" Masseria. The "Young Turks"--a term used to describe younger, Americanized gangsters --Luciano, Lansky, Siegal, Anastasia, Genovese, Lucchese and Adonis were making moves to eliminate the "Mustache Petes"--a term used to describe the Dons and associates of the old power structure--and assume power. Don Maranzano defeated Joe The Boss with the assistance of these Young Turks: who promptly fell upon the "Don Caesar" and, as Brutis, "brutally" assassinated him with knives! A war between the faithful of the old against the new consumed many lives... And the dreams of those lives. Alliances and allegiances will be swapped as fast as bullets leaving "Tommy Guns". Charlie "Lucky" Luciano would assume the role of top boss, be arrested, convicted, and imprisoned on "trumped-up" prostitution charges and finally deported. He would remain in control until his underlings, Genovese and Anastasia, would grasp the reins when Lucky could no longer control the situation from Italy. Lucky will die from a "heart attack" as Genovese moves against those loyal to Lucky. Genovese would fall from power through a frame up by those that were loyal to Lucky! So goes our tale of respect, tradition, honor ...

Antonio finished his lunch and was enjoying an espresso as he looked out the silk, drape encased windows of his ante-bellum style home. It's huge, fluted colonnades, large verandah that swept the breadth of the facade, and spouting statue circled fountain was pleasing to his eyes. Antonio enjoyed the look: South Carolina style -- A duplicate of a picture Antonio had seen in a magazinee..

Two soldiers, guns in hand, patrolled the expansive grounds while a third, Fat Freddy, sat reading the paper. These past three years had changed Antonio's perception of life in America. The wars claimed many lives of close associates such as CiCi and Zippy.

It was at one of his buildings in L.I. City that Pepe's jovial cousin, "CiCi", joined his ancestors. He was running book in one of the apartments with five men manning busy phones. It was a calm, sunny day, with just a chill of the lingering winter -- a day which brought promise of a beautiful evolving spring. Antonio had just stepped outside and was deeply breathing in the cool, fresh air, when a black automobile pulled up. Six men jumped out and, as one grabbed and thrust him against the car, proceeded coolly to the door and up the stairs. No words were spoken -- only a silent, deadly attitude warned the danger of uttering a sound.

Reaching the third floor, the lead gunman motioned for the others to proceed to apartment #301. There were no guards in front of the reinforced door. The troops took up position. With Tommy guns drawn, the lead man tapped on the door.

Inside CiCi was ecstatic. Business was proceeding better than planned. 'In two more weeks,' he thought to himself, 'he would expand the operation.' He had been given permission to bring in four more associates. Being a "made" soldier, he only lacked proof of an ability to command respect and teach others to become "earners" to advance up the ladder. He could now provide his "Capo" with sufficient proof (and loot) which would filter up the chain and catch the attention of the underboss. He was sure The Boss himself would then promote him to Capo. With his own crew he could maybe attain even higher status: "Don Cheech!"

There was a familiar knock at the door: rap, rap, stop... Rap, stop... Rap, rap, stop... Rap. CiCi went to answer it thinking it was Freddy. He was doing so well Fat Freddy was assisting him! Said he wanted to make sure that Pepe and Joe-Pep looked good in the eyes of the Don. Told him he'd stop by today. These thoughts led him to disregard security measures he had so rigorously implemented. Zippy, on the phone taking a bet on the horses, looked up and noticed CiCi removing the elaborate locking mechanism. He was in the process of reminding him to first identify the caller by using the simple peep hole when the door burst in...

The callers did not utter a word -- they just screamed one hundred rounds into the main room. CiCi was nearly cut in two.... Zippy's mouth gaped in silent warning. The phones rang with continual determination of clients who now would have to place their bets somewhere else. Only the echo of those bursts of lead and fire combined with the incessant ringing of the phones remained as testament to tradition!

The gunman left calmly down the stairs and out the door. Before entering the car, they warned Antonio about further business with his mentor. Leaving him with the words: "Someone will get in touch -- your new partner!"

Antonio had spoken to no one about what had transpired, nor of the warning. He informed the Don that he was not at the bookmaking operation at the time of the hit. The family's disposal crew arrived at the apartment thirty minutes after the incident and incinerated the evidence -- including the bodies. None of the neighbors uttered a word, no one helped, looked, or said anything. The accomplices and substance of organized crime went about their business as usual. Only the fact there was a traitor in the midst of this "loyal and trusting family" remained as testament of what transpired -- and everyone knew.

Harry, this was the reason Fat Freddy had been given the responsibility of Antonio's protection. After the last episode of the on-going "war", finger pointing began immediately and a cannibalizing purge of rivals and a clearing of debts were being accomplished -- under a guise of loyalty! Fat Freddy had been with the Don for twenty-five years and even though he was forever coniving, the Don respected and trusted hims. He was said to stand for all the traditions of the "Family": respect, loyalty, and heritage.

"It's time to go Mr. Dicanio." Freddy reminded Antonio -- returning him to the present and away from his thoughts of horror.

"Did Pepe call this morning?" Antonio inquired in a respectful tone of voice.

"Yea. He said the Ape has some good news."

'Good news...' thought Antonio '...meant bad news for someone.' He picked up the phone and dialed the number.

"Hello?" A voice inquired on the other end.

"Is Pepe there?" He asked.

"Oh...Uncle Antonio...wait a minute and I'll get him."

It was Joe-Pep.

Antonio thought the kid acted a whole lot older than seventeen years of age. He had become liaison to Louise who was working in some mob joint up in Mt. Kisko. He would pick up Jeanette and bring her to see her mother once a month. Pepe had big plans for Joe-Pep and his older brother Carmine. Joe was already running numbers and making pick-ups for Pauly Ham. Antonio would keep his sons as far away as possible from the "Family". He heard rumors of Feranzi backing Franky with a loan-sharking book on a small basis. He understood Joe-Pep was the courier of funds between Louise and him but he would not complain... "he did not want to rock the boat and have them climb deeper into the sewer of depravity!"

The phone clicked with Pepe's voice in a frenzy of excitement. "Listen, some big things are planned and in the make. Times are changing -- our future looks bright! I wanted... " The phone went silent...

"Hey! Pepe? You there? Yo! Pepe.." Antonio yelled. He could hear Pepe telling someone to shut their mouths when his voice returned once more, but it sounded strange to Antonio...sort of off beat or something.

"I'll send a crew over to your other place to fix up that new operation The Don told you about. I have to make a run. Talk to you later. CLICK!"

Antonio held the phone in his hand staring at it like it would come alive or something. It bothered him, he did not know why, but it did....

Joe The Boss was enjoying lunch at his favorite restaurant, the Nuova Villa Tammaro in Coney Island. Through the window the sights were lively and colorful. Over on the boardwalk, teeming with happy visitors, the Ferris wheel was packed as normal. Parents watched in glee as their their children, screaming with joy, rode the winding rollarcoaster. Joe's guest was informing him of a plan to "take out" Don Maranzano.

Salvatore "Charlie Lucky" Luciano, right hand to Joe The Boss, with soldiers loyal only to him, had made a pact with Maranzano: "Take out The Boss"-- while at the same time he planned to take out Maranzano! As the fat man stuffed his piggish snout, Lucky excused him self to attend to matters concerning the rest-room. Genovese, Adonis, Anastasia, and Siegal appeared as suddenly as Luciano had left and, with purpose, fed Joe The Boss his metallic dessert. When the explosive racket subsided and the smoke cleared the air, Joe The Boss was a note for the history books on mob tradition, loyalty and respect.

At this precise time, a rusting truck, East Side Plumbing painted on its side, pulled up at Antonio's mansion. Three men, dressed in white uniforms, exited the rear while two stepped out the front cab. Their cautious attitudes revealed a motive other than plumbing for the sudden, unannounced appearance of such a large work force. They had no interest in fixing any pipes --they were there to "fix" something else.

The two alert bodyguards canvassing the grounds noticed the men as they walked up to the door with "tools" in hand. With hand signals and body language, the loyal, experienced duo, silently positioned themselves to the rear of the hit squad. One of the heavy set walking brick walls, a large meaty hand twitching with anticipation, wrapped anonymously around a black revolver, asked in a low, chilling, rumbling voice, "Can I help youse guys?"

An icy blast of Arctic wind, the voice froze the group. Nobody could speak; their minds too busy racing with computations: How many?--Should I make a move?--Shoot first... Then ask questions?-- Who the hell was in charge of scouting the situation?

Antonio was seated at the dining room table when the racket of a fire-fight in his front yard startled him.. The stalemate between the hit crew and Antonio's bodyguards had lasted only moments, when suddenly, without warning, the quiet, still air, tense with apprehension, exploded with blasts of gunpowder, careening hot, swift lead, and shouts of determined orders.

The sinister group had moved as one -- as if telepathically commanded by the "foreman" of the plumbing crew. Someone appeared behind Antonio's loyal men -- blasting away. When the smoke had cleared, the two bodyguards were dead... so were two of the plumbers -- another wounded.

When Antonio stood up to investigate, the door opened and three men, one bleeding from a shoulder wound, entered. One of the men -- he was called "Two-Shoes" -- without any explanation or communication other than: "Just keep your mouth shut and we won't hurt you", tied Antonio up, dragged him to the truck, and threw him in.

News spread like the winds of Cape Horn with speed, might, and grim death: ships of dreams coursing the tides of the underworld sank -- capsized by a storm of revelation.

To the soldiers of Don Maranzano the news was not of a better future. The fact that the "Turks" had finished a job they could not meant that the hierarchy would change -- leaving them stranded on an island with no hope of rescue. Over the next four months, goaded by these capos, soldiers and advisers --"You can't trust him! Look, he wacked his own boss!" -- "Capo Di Tutti Capi", the Boss of Bosses, Supreme Godfather Maranzano "secretly" made plans to contract outside of his family for the removal of Luciano. History books claim that Lucky Luciano was informed of this development and "retired" Maranzano for it, when in fact, it was a pre-planned course of action for a man of Luciano's ambitions -- only hastened by Maranzano. The plan backfired, on the day the hit was to be carried out, Luciano moved ahead with his own plans.

In his new, luxurious offices, at the Grand Central Building in Manhattan, high above bustling Park Avenue, Maranzano, cornered in a back room, was assassinated unlike a "Caesar" with knives by his Romans, but by knives and guns at the hands of "Barbarians". The first order of the day was the removal of the high office holders loyal to Maranzano: The Ape was the first to suffer a fate he did not even contemplate...

Ape Man strolled to his car thinking of his heavy schedule: He had to stop at the butcher shop to take care of an order his wife placed, drop by Joe Adonis's joint and pick up some receipts, ride to The Don's office and take care of several items, swing around town back to Brooklyn and meet with Pepe, then join his family for the Confirmation of his son, Tommy, on Long Island.

It was around eleven in the morning when he turned onto busy Canarsy Street in Brooklyn. Vendors, well into their morning ritual, forced him to leave his car double parked. Perturbed at this lack of respect, he entered Joe's Butcher Shop with a pronounced, forced, dominant swagger. The crowd of shoppers, recognizing The Apes massive bulk, meekly parted way. Swift, shuffling feet, and loud, boisterous voices became hushed whispered murmuring. The sudden absence of activity alerted Joe the Butcher to The Apes sudden arrival. He immediately entered the main shop from the cutting room with a wide, beaming smile: "Heya Apa Mana, taka look ata veal -- justa prepared," he said, as he turned and walked back into the cutting room.

The Ape followed Joe The Butcher with a knowing grin, he expected this special treatment, he was the enforcer for "The Man" and was to be accorded his due. All he could think about was how he would surprise his wife -- and his stomach -- with a gift of fresh veal!

The Ape passed through the swinging double doors. He saw the freshly sliced veal neatly arrayed on the cutting table. The sight of the veal made his stomach groan. He pictured it lightly breaded, fried in olive oil, and served with a side order of tomatoes seasoned with oregano. As he turned toward Joe deep in thought, a Butcher knife cleaved his skull in two.... he never saw it coming.

Joe immediately emptied the store saying, "I'm a sorry... I gotta closa tha shopa... Pleasa coma back alatta."

The team, well rehearsed and prepared, lifted the body onto the cutting table. In twenty minutes they had chopped the six-foot-four frame and deposited the remnants into card- board boxes. As a member of the team drove the Cadillac to a Brooklyn salvage yard -- and it's own dismemberment-- a truck pulled up back. The boxes were loaded for delivery to a private Crematorium in New Jersey. Within two hours, all evidence of the Ape's existence had disappeared. The once proud and feared enforcer was now nothing but ashes: so were the dreams of his son Tommy... who would wait patiently for his father's return. Thus the continuity of The Hand would persevere with vengence!

Introduction 2: Harry, It Continued... The curse!

In the year of the beast, Nineteen Hundred and Thirty Four...

Pandomania reined the cavern of death: The Beast roared in abstract painful pleasure; tormenting multitudes of newly implanted souls, amongst them, Alphonso DiCanio....

"So, Captain Feranzi, you are well on your way. I am pleased with the situations you have connived and subverted. Your training in the black arts is invigorating. Destruction, murder, helpless fear, AND ANTONIO'S PREDICAMENT is pleasing to my heart! I commend your expert handling of Alphonso and the others ... Look.. See them over there...." he said, pointing towards the highest reaches of the cavern.

The Captain searched the living, grotesque masks two-hundred feet above him until he had located all of the minute, familiar visages; each face of bone, their features --minus flesh -- intact, their chalky-white, bony lips twisted in spasmic grimace. Every where he looked legions of mouths invoked forlorn entreaties to GOD in desperate aspiration to end their personal, living-in-death nightmares. Though reality, maintained through a flowing and ebbing of tides of memory and pain, produced a consistent series of sane recollection and demented torture, it was thoughts of hope -- which were never lost on the Beast-- which constantly created new buttons with which The Beast would violently push in return for his personal, sadistic pleasure. One never slept in HELL; never dreamt in HELL; one just was forced to return to memories of good, for good memories were The Beast's tools of anguish -- for all eternity. Recalling good memories would only add to the misery of their everlasting predicament.

"...And now, Captain Feranzi, what do you have up your sleeve? How will you continue your intrigue? I have noticed that none of the participants of this skirmish have invoked HIM that is Good! I expect the same for the next generation. Why don't you play the black cupid and entertain the notion of Joe-Pep and Jeanette in sinful involvement... they seem to be in perfect thought for another lineage of success!!"

"Sir, I have implemented a thirty year program that I am sure will deliver vast amounts of suffering and conversion. Man is putty in my hands. I am well on my way to provoke another series of disaster!"

"Be wise Captain, for the mere invocation from the heart of one of these subjects of yours could well bring down the wrath of The Knight of Good over Evil, HIM, the Salvation of man, The SON of GOD! And then, another personal battle will ensue. Battle field earth is well in my hands. You must not believe you are perfect in your plans. For if you slip, you will join the others!"

"Your Majesty, I am aware of the pitfalls of over-confidence... But, I shall succeed!"

"Return to Battle Field Earth and get on with it. I desire your full complement of souls. In fact, because you are so sure of yourself, I desire an increase of forty thousand subjects to dress my throne over the next fifteen years!"

" But Sire, forty thousand souls? How can I..."

"HOW CAN YOU WHAT!" bellowed the beast called Satan the Knight of Evil over Good. "YOU WILL DELIVER SIXTY THOUSAND SOULS... IN TEN YEARS! Now, be gone. Remove your lowly worm filled vessel from my four eyes or I'LL BLEACH YOUR SKULL!"