Excerpts from The Brutal Truth: Surviving in a Mobster’s World:
From Chapter II:
To prove themselves, young gangsters would take to the streets armed with guns and knives, firing shots into the air or slashing at bystanders, sending crowds fleeing in panic. These acts weren’t random, they were performances of power, meant to demonstrate loyalty, fearlessness, and a readiness for violence.
For many Neapolitan youths, the Camorra offered what felt like the only dependable path to employment. Jobs for juveniles were scarce in Naples and the surrounding areas, and joining the Camorra was often seen as one of the most accessible and lucrative trades available. For those with little education or no formal qualifications, gang life promised a fast track to wealth and influence even if it came at a heavy price.
After his initiation, Tony advanced to the rank of Picciotto. This was the next step in the Camorra hierarchy, and membership at this level was indefinite. A man could remain a Picciotto for anywhere from two to ten years, depending on his zeal, intelligence, criminal record, and personal ties to higher-ranking affiliates. Even so, the rank of Picciotto position was seen as an important and respected class within the society and was originally held to high standards. The conditions for admission were strict, and the role reflected a certain internal code of morality upheld by the association.
Tony’s family practiced Omertà, the code of silence. His father, Pietro, was especially strict about it. Yet behind closed doors, Pietro’s cruelty knew no bounds. He regularly beat Gracia and the boys, leaving deep emotional and physical scars. Even as Tony rose within the Camorra, he still lacked the confidence to fight back. He knew the price of disobedience.
In January of 1897, local authorities came to the house. They questioned Gracia about a recent Black Hand killing in the area, asking if she knew anything. Gracia saw it as a chance to get back at Pietro for everything he had done to her and the boys. She hoped he would be arrested and finally taken out of their lives. Though she had no actual knowledge of the incident, she lied to the authorities. She told them that Pietro had confessed the killing to her during a drunken rant.
That night, when Pietro returned home, the authorities were waiting. They arrested him and brought him to the station for questioning. But Pietro had an alibi and was released.
He came home drunk and furious.
In a blind rage, he attacked Gracia, accusing her of lying, breaking the code of silence, and betraying him to the authorities. His beating was brutal. Tony and Giovanni were in their bedroom when they heard the commotion. They peeked through the door and saw everything—the blows, the shouting, the moment their mother’s body went limp.
When Pietro noticed them watching, he threatened that they would suffer the same fate if they told anyone.
Then, without another word, he carried Gracia’s lifeless body out of the house. He disappeared for days, leaving the boys to fend for themselves.
From Chapter V:
Papa and Mama tried very hard to hide their activities from us. But as children often do, we sensed something was going on. There were too many late-night visits, too many trucks coming and going, hauling barrels of wine from the basement. It was far from ordinary.
One night, my stepbrother Jimmy was in his bedroom, which faced the front of the house. He heard a car pull up and looked out the window. A group of men stepped out and began walking toward our front door. Moments later, another car screeched to a stop and opened fire on them. Gunshots tore through the night. Two men were hit immediately and collapsed. The other three, though wounded, tried to return fire before the car sped off….
Chapter IX:
The Honeymoon is Over. Shortly after the birth of our first son, Joseph, Tony’s drinking spiraled out of control. He had come home drunk before, but something in him had changed. He began staying out later and returning home mean and angry. He started asserting his authority in cruel ways, constantly putting me down. I no longer had the freedom to make my own decisions. I lost my autonomy—the ability to make personal choices.
He shut me out. He no longer shared details about his day or how business was going. If I tried to talk to him, he’d snap and tell me to shut up. I had hoped that, now that he had a wife and child, he’d want to settle down and finally have the family he never had. But that was just wishful thinking on my part.
Soon after this behavior began, one night, he came home drunk and ordered me out of bed to make him food. But instead of just berating me, he beat me. That was the first time he had ever laid a hand on me in aggression. The beatings continued after that—most nights unless he brought people home. As much as he hit me, I never cried. That seemed to make him angrier. I was terrified, but I refused to show it.
I confided in Claudia Caldarella about what was happening. Mike never treated her that way. She tried to console me, but I had no idea how to deal with this new version of Tony. I tried talking to him when he was sober, but he never explained himself, offered no excuses—not even an apology. I became determined to protect my baby, just in case Tony ever turned his anger on him.
When Tony did bring people home, it was usually his inner circle or business affiliates. They were often drunk too, bragging loudly about how much money they’d made, what they’d gotten away with, or what they were planning next. Tony would drag me out of bed and order me into the kitchen to cook for them. The only way I learned anything was by quietly eavesdropping on their conversations.
In doing so, I was lucky to gain insight into Tony’s business and criminal operations. When he was drunk, he talked too much, and so did the others. I began recognizing names, stories, and patterns. The names Pedone, Ingrassia, LaFata, Alioto, and Parente came up often. I especially remember the heated conversations about Parente, Tony’s business partner involved in rum running. Parente’s legal troubles threatened to expose Tony, and that risk-filled him with fury. Much of the abuse Tony inflicted on us seemed rooted in his rage toward Parente.
For the most part, Tony refrained from beating me when company was over, except when the Caldarellas were present. They witnessed how he mistreated me many times. He had no problem demeaning me and putting me down in front of others. I was treated like a servant, not as his wife or the mother of his child.
On March 31, 1925, Tony arrived home drunk, as usual. He dragged me out of bed and into the kitchen to cook for him. While I was cooking, he went into the baby’s room and woke him. Joseph began to cry. Tony, wanting to play, grew angry when the baby wouldn’t stop….
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