You wanna talk about mafia? Well, my father was in the mafia. Growing up in Bensonhurst Brooklyn was a rough neighborhood. My father had a little crew. They were his bodyguards and button men. A button man is someone who will kill for you, being that my father was a made man. what’s a made man? did anyone ever see the godfather? my father would delegate to his button men.to make the hit only a made man can delegate . There was a gun in my house, actually, there was a gun in three rooms . I had just married an abusive man not related to the mafia. He used to beat me, but I would never tell my father. One day. I went over the house with my daughter, whowas one years old at the time. it was about 100° outside. I had long sleeves on .my father asked, why are you wearing a long sleeve roll up your sleeve. He saw that my arm was all bruised and black and blue from the wrist to my shoulder. He knew right away. It was my husband. He did not say anything. Silence was not a good thing in the house. It meant trouble, and that trouble was my husband. I knew my father would take care of him, but I did not know how. One thing you have to learn if you’re planning on doing a hit, have to wait. too suspicious to do it right away.. Well, my husband and I split up and I had full custody of my daughter. He never saw my daughter after my father‘s talk. a year later I heard that my husband was dead in the bathroom of his apartment with a needle in his arm, my husband never did drugs. I never questioned my father . Every Sunday night after macaroni dinner, dad would get up put on a suit and go to wherever he had to go. My mother knew what was going on. She also knew he had a girlfriend, they all have girlfriends, but she kept quiet. She was getting everything she needed. The house was beautiful. My mother was uneducated, where was she going to go? She knew her life would be over if she left. my brother and I growing upThought this was completely normal. we used to see dad‘s picture in the paper, we didn’t think anything about it. We would say he did it again. the mafia has different families, Sicilian Naples, Bari Italians. We were the Sicilian mafia. Dad also owned a bar. One night I heard that a man came in the bar and threatened my father. His bodyguard through the man out.the next night. , The man came back.He was cursing at my father, and he saw that he had a gun on-his hip the stranger-was shot in the head and thrown over the train tracks Never to be seen again. Crazy as it sounds I was brought up to not think much about ? What’s that ?the man deserved it although my father never told us, I read it in the newspaper. My father never told us any of his business. When the families went out, we always went to Uncle Louie, or uncle Frank’s. We never bothered with the neighbors. the neighbors did not want to bother with us, but the neighborhood was safe. And safe theyfelt. My father passed away in 1980 of colon cancer.He left my mother before he got sick. When he did die, my mother was sad, but that’s when her life started to live again .we were relieved .we moved to Florida and started all over again without him.this was the happiest days of our lives. It finally was over.
Growing up in Bensonhurst, New York, where the mafia ran the neighborhood. One thing I have to say about them, they love to eat, drink, and they all have their entourage with them. I used to work in a bar, Tuesdays was sit down night. all the made men. gathered together. Joe blow, bill the fish, Louie the fish. Everyone had a nickname. I never knew their last names maybe because I did not want to know. I would have to take the guns and hide them in the icebox where the beer was stored.after their meeting was over they were generous with their tips and with my secrecy, I was like one of the guys. I am a female. this one has to get whacked, the guy down the street needs his legs broken, three points on the Jets .they were into everything gambling drugs murder. Well since then the mafia has diminished. I’m glad I’m out of that business, but in reality, family life was their life. The wives had to just put up with it. They could not leave. They knew too much.
Well, it started on the New York City subway, taking the train home from work. I met a man on the train, good looking, and he started a conversation. The next thing you know I started dating him then marriage. with Italian weddings in Brooklyn, New York you invite about 300 people .That’s the Italian thing.well I thought everything was going well. Until I found out that his family was what we used to call La Mafia .bought a house furnished it and it was nice . Living the good life.until one day getting ready for work,. My husband tells me he does not feel well and he’s staying home. around 12 o’clock in the afternoon. I left work early to give him the good news that I was pregnant. It was pouring rain outside. I was soaking wet I enter my kitchen removing my drenched clothing,. I’m in my underwear now. I noticed the bedroom door was slightly open.. I sneaked into peak and I found my husband having sex with another man. I was dumbfounded. Ran out of the house went to my mom‘s but I did not say anything. After a couple of days, my husband called and told me it was the truth that he was bisexual he would give me the house and anything I wanted as long as I did not tell his family being connected with the mafia it is a disgrace to be gay, especially 40 years ago. He told me if I was to tell anyone that he would kill me .today I find out he is deceased. I did not have his baby. He did not want one so life goes on.
He’s sitting in the courtroom, with a smug look on his face. He was disheveled. He looked like he belonged in an institution. I was on the jury, of all people, they made me the head juror. He had robbed the bodega, shot the owner allegedly. The prosecution interrogated three people. one was a detective , the Other2 were prostitutes,. Now after three days it’s time to deliberate. We all go into the room, everyone says that he’s guilty. I being the head juror, was the only one that did not consider him guilty. Reason being, the judge said before we left to deliberate, if you are 99.99. percent sure. That he is guilty, you must make him innocent. when I propose this to the jury members, they were against it. They felt he was guilty and they wanted to go home. I can’t commit someone unless I’m absolutely sure. well nevertheless we were sequestered overnight in a hotel. In the morning, we all decided to make him innocent. It turns out that he was a twin identical twin. he was taking the wrap for his brother, who had a rap sheet as long as your arm. Call it what it is. it turns out that I was right I couldn’t see putting that man away for life. I had a gut feeling he was innocent.
Growing up as a little girl was not easy. I was the youngest, my brother was six years older than me. I remember when I was three years old watching my parents argue. my dad hitting my mom. I would go upstairs call the police they would come .my father who was the detective, would show his badge and the police would walk away. This was many years ago thank God things are different now. So many of these insane incidents, that I will get into later on. I come from an Italian family in Bensonhurst. Of course, with all the furniture covered with plastic slip covers. My mom did not work. She was a simple woman subservient to my father every Sunday was pasta. God forbid you didn’t wait for dad, who said at the head of the table. My brother was sort of connected to the wise guys. who every year we would have a barbecue. Luis the lump Frankie, the fish. mafia names were in my backyard. Reminded me of a Rodney Dangerfield movie, but we all had a good time after that was cards. my mother would serve the coffee and make hundreds of dollars from those men as a thank you. this is just the beginning of many other stories and tragedies that occurred in my life. I haven’t even begun to start.
