Made Men

by Marcel Danesi

  12. Katharine Hamnett, “Katharine’s Cutting Edge,” Independent on Sunday, March 10, 1991, 10.

  13. Lunde, Organized Crime, 57.

  14. Nicaso and Lamothe, Angels, Mobsters, and Narco-Terrorists, 36.

  15. Lunde, Organized Crime, 149.

  16. Reynolds, Shadow People, 189.

  17. Cited in Reynolds, Shadow People, 190.

  18. Cited in Gambetta, The Sicilian Mafia, 190.

  19. Carlos E. Cortes, “Italian Americans in Films: From Immigrants to Icons,” Melus 14 (1987): 107–26.

  20. Cortes, “Italian Americans in Films,” 107.

  21. Cortes, “Italian Americans in Films,” 109.

  22. Cortes, “Italian Americans in Films,” 112.

  23. Cited in Diego Gambetta, Codes of the Underworld: How Criminals Communicate (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2011), 269.

  24. Lunde, Organized Crime, 171.

  25. John Follain, The Last Godfathers: Inside the Mafia’s Most Infamous Family (New York: Thomas Dunne Books, 2009), 10.

  26. Follain, The Last Godfathers, 10.

  27. Cited in Lunde, Organized Crime, 171.

  28. Follain, The Last Godfathers, 171.

  29. John Dickie, Cosa Nostra: A History of the Sicilian Mafia (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 2004), 332–33.

  30. Reynolds, Shadow People, 169.

  31. Pino Arlacchi, Gli uomini del disonore: La mafia siciliana nella vita del grande pentito Antonino Calderone (Milano: Mondadori, 1992), 23.

  32. Simone Weil, Selected Essays, ed. Richard Rees (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 1962), 32.

  33. Reynolds, Shadow People, 168.

  34. Lunde, Organized Crime, 173.

  35. Lunde, Organized Crime, 86.

  36. Lunde, Organized Crime, 86.

  37. Lunde, Organized Crime, 155.

  38. Lunde, Organized Crime, 154.

  39. Georges Bataille, The Trial of Gilles de Rais (Los Angeles, CA: Amok Books, 1965), 56.

  40. Marshall McLuhan, Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1964), 23.

  41. Dickie, Cosa Nostra, xvi.

  42. Dickie, Cosa Nostra, xvii.

  43. Dickie, Cosa Nostra, xxi.

  Chapter 5

  Names

  In real life, unlike in Shakespeare, the sweetness of the rose depends upon the name it bears. Things are not only what they are. They are, in very important respects, what they seem to be.

  —Hubert H. Humphrey (1911–1978)

  Nicknames are memorable and more likely to stand out than real names because they are more colorful and vivid. For criminals, they are part of how they define themselves, alluding to something in a gangster’s character, appearance, or background that is thought to have import or significance. Lucky Luciano, born Salvatore Lucania, was called “Lucky” because of the noticeable large scars around his neck that permanently recorded his fortuitous escape from death after being slashed and left dead by criminal rivals. The nickname of “Scarface” was given to Al Capone because, as previously mentioned, he was involved in a fight that left him with three noticeable scars on his face. These became a personal brand, emphasizing his toughness and fierceness. In fact, Mafiosi have been long aware of the brand value of names. Frank Costello, known as the “Prime Minister” of Cosa Nostra in the 1930s and 1940s in the United States, was quoted by Time magazine as stating, “I’m like Coca-Cola. There are lots of drinks as good as Coca-Cola. Pepsi-Cola is a good drink. But Pepsi-Cola never got the advertising Coca-Cola got. I’m not Pepsi-Cola. I’m Coca-Cola because I got so much advertising.”[1]

  As we saw in the previous chapter, Luciano Leggio was a ruthless gangster who put on a good show for the cameras. The nickname of La primula rossa (“Scarlet Pimpernel”), by which he was known, probably comes from the 1935 movie of that name, a remake of an early silent version that revolves around an aristocratic hero during the French Revolution who hides his identity as an idle, useless person but masquerades as the mysterious hero Scarlet Pimpernel, who gallantly rescues aristocrats sentenced to death. Leggio was certainly gallant in appearance but vicious in his life. He was also nicknamed “The Professor,” probably because of his inclinations to pontificate to other clan members. He had other names as well, as John Follain elucidates in the following:

  With a round, flabby face, full lips, and a scornful stare, Leggio was referred to—only when safely out of hearing—as “the Grain of Fire” because of his short temper or “the Cripple” due to a slight limp. He suffered from Pott’s disease, a tuberculosis of the spine [that] gave him back pain, fever, and heavy sweats at night.[2]

  A gangster is a nobody until he is given a nickname. As Antonio Nicaso and Lee Lemothe aptly observe, all thieves have nicknames, as part of the remaking of their identity. Made men are renamed men.

  Those who are brought into the formal underworld may have had nicknames in their former lives; however, when initiated they’re given new names or allowed to choose one. Some names describe a physical characteristic—Vyacheslav Ivankov, for example, was called “Yaponchik” because of the Asiatic cast to his eyes. Others might be for a thief’s attitude: “Tank” or “Dashing.” A home invader might be called “Madhouse” because of his single-minded wrecking of a victim’s house.[3]

  Interestingly, the head of the Casalesi clan (in a province of Caserta), Francesco Schiavone, was dubbed “Sandokan,” because his dark beard resembled that of a popular star in a 1970 television series. In the minds of gangsters, there can be many “Francesco Schiavones,” but there can only be one Sandokan. This is because nicknames promote distinctiveness. As American writer Florence King aptly puts it, “In its purest sense, nicknaming is an elitist ritual practiced by those who cherish hierarchy.”[4] But the use of verbal ritual does not stop there. Criminal organizations also require a brand name for themselves. From “Mafia” to “Hells Angels,” these identify the group and its overall character, as well as often telling an implicit story about the group’s origins.

  The Gang

  As discussed earlier, the origin of the word Mafia is not certain, although some historians trace it to either mahyas (“exaggerated boasting”), marfud (“rejected”), or ma fi (“It doesn’t exist”), all Arabic words.[5] Others trace it instead to two other possible Arabic sources—mahfaz (“protection”) or mahfil (“a gathering”). All make sense, given the origins of the Mafia as part of cosca culture, and because of Middle East settlements and the linguistic influence of their languages in Sicily. Sicily was colonized from the eighth century BCE by Greeks, who displaced the earlier Phoenician settlers. The island was then conquered by Carthaginians, who, in turn, were conquered by Romans in the third century BCE. Sicily came under Norman rule in the eleventh century, forming the nucleus of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, consisting of Sicily and southern Italy. Thus there were many linguistic sources from which the term Mafia could have arisen.

  Some see its origin as an acronym (also as previously discussed). One possibility is Morte Alla Francia, Italia Anela (“Death to France, Italy Cries”), which purportedly came into being during the Sicilian Vespers in 1282. Closer in time to the present, another possibility is “Mazzini Autorizza Furti Incendi” (“Mazzini Authorizes Robberies, Arson, Poisoning”). This is an obvious attempt to link the Mafia with the

  nineteenth-century nationalist movement spearheaded by Giuseppe Mazzini. These origin scenarios are now largely discarded, even though they continue to have adherents among Mafiosi, since it seems to imbue the name with historical relevance. As Lunde puts it, “Most definitions seek to give the Mafia an ancient origin.”[6]

  As discussed in chapter 1, the term Mafia came into general use after an 1863 play by Giuseppe Rizzotto and Gaetano Mosca entitled I mafiusi di la Vicaria (“The Mafiosi of the Vicaria”). The word caught on because it referred to secret criminal gangs, being a kind of general term that appeared in 1868 in Traina’s bilingual Italian-Sicilian Dictionary, where it is defi
ned as “the actions, deeds, and words of someone who tries to act like a wise guy.”[7] A later dictionary, published in 1878, claims that the word had been imported into Sicily by Piedmontese bureaucrats and soldiers after Italian Unification, which is an unlikely theory. A scholar of Sicilian culture, Giuseppe Pitré, denied the existence of a Mafia crime gang, claiming that the word simply meant self-respect and personal justice. Actually, the adjectival form of the word mafiusu was in vogue in Sicily for centuries to describe a coquettish young girl, called a mafiusiedda or a picciotta bedda (“a beautiful little one”). But as Nicaso and Lemothe point out, this is really wishful thinking. The fact remains that the term has always defined a criminal gang no matter what its true origins:

  These definitions were well-received by Sicilian society, giving self-justification to any number of antisocial or criminal acts. In truth, these traits, even absent of criminal activity, are nonetheless antisocial concepts that refuse to bow before the laws of either church or state. That such men could come into conflict with the law—particularly if they’re engaged in criminal activities—makes a strong underpinning for a cohesive mafia-like mind-set.[8]

  At the time of Rizzotto and Mosca’s play, the Sicilians knew that street criminals existed, but that’s what they were—street gangs. Assigning the name Mafia to the thugs gave them an identity and a sense of importance. The term became a one-word history book, allowing for confabulated notions to take root that have become almost impossible to eradicate. Without the play, it is unlikely that prisoners—which the play is about—would be identified in any unique way. In the play, the prison gang had a capo, an initiation rite, and a code of omertà, and it dealt in extortion activities. From this world of fantasy, the Mafia emerged as a social force. The Mafia of the play, and of real life, finds its strength in that code and in the institution of the family. Blood does not betray, and, if it does, the punishment is exacted in blood, as Nicaso and Lemothe write:

  Whatever the true roots of the Sicilian Mafia are, and whatever origin of the name, the organization is the most cohesive and active of all the criminal groups in the world, with the possible exception of Chinese Triads. The Sicilian Mafia has endured oppression by governments and armies, survived incredibly bloody internecine warfare, and sullied the accusations of informants. In times of power and prosperity, the Sicilian Mafia has extended its reach around the world, at times influencing, if not controlling, international drug trafficking. And after periodic government crackdowns, the Sicilian Mafia has always been able to quietly regroup and bide its time. It has never disappeared.[9]

  An interesting take on the origin of the word Mafia comes from the pen of novelist Leonardo Sciascia in his 1973 story Philology, which takes the form of an imaginary conversation between two Sicilians about the meaning of the word. The older of the speakers, who appears to be a politician, traces it to an Arabic source; the younger of the two prefers to explain its origins as a slang term for manly swagger. As it turns out, both men are Mafiosi, and their dialogue is a rehearsal in case they are called on to testify. Their intent is to confuse. As John Dickie points out, Sciascia is suggesting that “the name ‘Mafia’ became the Sicilian Mafia’s own little joke at the state’s expense.”[10]

  Traditionally, the Sicilian Mafia was based in the western part of the island of Sicily, around Palermo and Trapani. After World War II, it expanded its base of operations to the eastern part. Today, it is active throughout Sicily and Italy. And, of course, as Cosa Nostra, it had already become part of American culture by the end of the nineteenth century. Today it is a global empire with its tentacles reaching everywhere, involved in both criminal and legitimate operations. And, arguably, this is all because the name caught everybody’s fancy and stuck.

  As also detailed in chapter 1, the first recorded incident of Mafia crime can be traced back to 1890 in New Orleans, when a group of Sicilian Mafiosi killed a chief of police who had been harassing them with arrests. The criminals were acquitted because the witnesses were apparently bribed or threatened. A lynch mob dragged the Mafiosi into the street upon their release and shot or hanged eleven of them. The Mafia seemed to be dead in America, but it was reborn as Cosa Nostra because of two events. One was Prohibition, starting in 1919, which created, as John Lawrence Reynolds puts it, “a low-cost, high-demand, and high-profit opportunity for criminals, especially those operating within an organization that could manufacture, import, and distribute its products under the noses (or with the collaboration) of law enforcement.”[11] It is highly ironic that a Puritan-based strategy for stopping the consumption of an “evil liquid” was the pivotal event that allowed Cosa Nostra to take root in the United States.

  The second event was Benito Mussolini’s crackdown on Mafiosi in Sicily, which led to many emigrating to the United States, joining the emerging Cosa Nostra clans involved in bootlegging. After Prohibition, a solid organizational structure within Cosa Nostra was in place that allowed it to branch out and spread its reach throughout the United States and Canada. Timing was fortuitous for the criminals. Cosa Nostra used the same symbols, rituals, and organizational structure of both the Sicilian Mafia and the ’Ndrangheta, reflecting a hybrid form of criminal culture, waving such requirements as blood ties for membership and expanding its recruitment procedures beyond the Italian heritage pool. Cosa Nostra welcomed Irish, Jewish, and other gangsters into the fold, reflecting, in its own way, the melting pot philosophy of the country to which it had migrated. In a phrase, Cosa Nostra has always been an equal opportunity employer.

  As Dickie elucidates, the origins of the term in no way meant a restructuring of the code of omertà or the structure of the Mafia:

  It was in the years following the Second World War that the Sicilian Mafia probably began to refer to itself as Cosa Nostra—“our thing.” It may be that the most recent of the Mafia’s many names is an American import. The theory has been put forward that the term originated in Sicilian immigrant communities in the United States; it was “our thing” because it was not open to criminals from other ethnic groups. But because the Mafia does not leave written minutes of its dense, cryptic internal conversation, there is no way of proving where “Cosa Nostra” came from.[12]

  The origin of Camorra is not clear. Some claim that the term is made up of a word for a gambling game called la morra, which is played with the fingers of the hand and by calling out a number. The one who calls out the number that corresponds to the actual fingers displayed wins. The “Ca” part of the word is a shortened form of capo, hence Camorra. In fact, the first documentation of the name comes from a 1735 text referring to a gambling den in Naples. The name actually means “extortion,” conjuring up “images of secret sects, mysterious occult powers, bloodthirsty revenge, and an invincible brotherhood.”[13] Another possible origin of the term is a Spanish word for dispute, but there is no textual evidence to back this up.[14] As Reynolds observes, there is little doubt about its criminal connotations: “Camorra established itself in and around Naples as a paternal organization, dedicated to providing assurance to the citizens and businesses of Naples that they would not be harassed by anyone except, of course, Camorra members in the event that its payments were not received.”[15]

  ’Ndrangheta probably derives from the Greek word andragathos, meaning “a good and courageous man worthy of respect.”[16] Sacra Corona Unita has obvious religious meaning, referring to the corona (“rosary”). Differences among the gangs are really matters of detail. For instance, Reynolds explains the difference between the Mafia and the ’Ndrangheta in terms of the bloodline requirement as follows:

  Sons of Mafia members may choose to follow their fathers into the organization or not; sons of the ’Ndranghetisti have no choice. To become a member of the criminal family is their diritto di sangue (“right of blood”), assigned at birth. While being groomed for their life’s work, a process that begins shortly after puberty, male children are giovani d’onore, or “boys of honor.” At maturity, they become picciotti
d’onore, soldiers expected to carry out orders from their superiors without question and without fail.[17]

  Interestingly, the criminal organization known as Mafia dei basilischi, based in the region of Basilicata and emerging in the 1980s, took its name from the 1963 film I basilischi, by Lina Wertmüller. Strangely, the movie had nothing to do with organized crime. It simply took place in Basilicata.

  As previously discussed, the term Yakuza derives from a losing combination of numbers in a gambling game called oicho-kabu, which is essentially a version of Black Jack. The way the losing combination—8–9–3—is pronounced in Japanese produces the word ya-ku-za. The term came to mean a misfit or outcast. In fact, the Yakuza like to portray themselves as underdogs or outcasts. Significantly, Yakuza members are called kyokaku, meaning “chivalrous persons, men of honor.”

  The origin of the term Triad is particularly interesting. The first appearance of a society with the goals and structure of the Triads appeared in 1644, when the Ming emperor was overthrown by Manchu invaders, founding the Ch’ing dynasty. Legend has it that more than 100 Buddhist monks vowed to restore the Ming dynasty, initiating a guerilla war for many years, a war that they ultimately lost. In 1674, most of the monks were captured and brutally killed, and their monastery was demolished. The few surviving monks vowed revenge on the invaders, forming a secret society devoted to the annihilation of the Manchu. The monks chose the triangle as their symbol of resistance, a shape that had mystical connotations. The three vertices were named “Heaven,” “Earth,” and “Man.” The surviving five monks came to be mythologized as the Five Ancestors. The monks themselves called their society Hung Mun, which literally translates into “Heaven and Earth Society.” The society never named itself as a Triangle or Triad. It was in 1821 when Dr. William Milne of Malacca, a missionary, coined the term Triad, although, as Reynolds observes, “Resident Chinese usually refer to the organization as hei she bui, literally translated as ‘black (or secret, sinister, or wicked) society.’”[18]