Happy Accidents

[captainsblog]

Well, happier than last week's, anyway.

Our neighbor Sally called during the day yesterday to, among other things, let Eleanor know that Augusten Burroughs had a new book out. She remembered that Eleanor had recommended his previous book- Running with Scissors- and she'd just seen that he had a newer one out, titled Possible Side Effects.

I found our closest library had it, so I checked it out for her- only to find that she, actually, wasn't the one who'd recommended his earlier book (she'd tried reading portions of it and couldn't get through them).

Nonetheless, it was a good trip to Clearfield, for sitting a mere two Dewey Decimal numbers away from the new Burroughs book was a much older one- one I haven't read in well over 30 years.  It's Woody Allen's Getting Even- a collection of his comic essays from (mostly) the New Yorker from the late 1960s.  I've been enjoying the re-reading of many of his oddities from back then, including an academic analysis of the laundry lists of the famed (however nonexistent) 19th-century central European intellectual Hans Metterling, but here's the one I most remember My friend Dennis loaned me his copy of the book, probably around 1974, and especially recommended this piece about organized crime. We discovered the book at the height of the Godfather craze; everybody did a cotton-mouthed Brando impersonation, offers-that-you-can't-refuse were routinely made, and I had a still-beloved copy of the comedy album Everything You Always Wanted to Know about the Godfather^*(But Don't Ask). I think Dennis had even more interest in the genre because his dad, an NYPD cop, was actually doing undercover surveillance of these proto-Sopranos at the time (to this day, I remember listening to a reel-to-reel tape with references to 22-20 Utopia Parkway). So the ending of this spoof hit home for him, hopefully without blowing it up. It's short, at least for a New Yorker piece of the day, but I'll cut anyway:


A LOOK AT ORGANIZED CRIME

by WOODY ALLEN

It is no secret that organized crime in America takes in over forty billion dollars a year. This is quite a profitable sum, especially when one considers that the Mafia spends very little for office supplies. Reliable sources indicate that the Cosa Nostra laid out no more than six thousand dollars last year for personalized stationery, and even less for staples. Furthermore, they have one secretary who does all the typing, and only three small rooms for headquarters, which they share with the Fred Persky Dance Studio.

Last year, organized crime was directly responsible for more than one hundred murders, and mafiosi participated indirectly in several hundred more, either by lending the killers carfare or by holding their coats. Other illicit activities engaged in by Cosa Nostra members included gambling, narcotics, prostitution, hijacking, loansharking, and the transportation of large whitefish across the state line for immoral purposes. The tentacles of this corrupt empire even reach into the government itself. Only a few months ago, two gang lords under federal indictment spent the night at the White House, and the president slept on the sofa.

In 1921, Thomas (The Butcher) Covello and Ciro (The Tailor) Santucci attempted to organize disparate ethnic groups of the underworld and thus take over Chicago. This was foiled when Albert (The Logical Positivist) Corillo assassinated Kid Lipsky by locking him in a closet and sucking all the air out with a straw. Lipsky's brother Mendy (alias Mendy Lewis, alias Mendy Larsen, alias Mendy Alias) avenged Lipsky's murder by abducting Santucci's brother Gaetano (also known as Little Tony, or Rabbi Henry Sharpstein) and returning him several weeks later in twenty- seven seperate mason jars. This signalled the beginning of a bloodbath.

Dominick (The Herpotologist) Mione shot Lucky Lorenzo (so nicknamed when a bomb that went off in his hat failed to kill him) outside a bar in Chicago. In return, Corillo and his men traced Mione to Newark and made his head into a wind instrument. At this point, the Vitale gang, run by Giuseppe Vitale (real name Quincy Baedecker), made their move to take over all bootlegging in Harlem from Irish Larry Doyle - a racketeer so suspicious that he refused to let anybody in New York ever get behind him, and walked down the street constantly pirouetting and spinning around. Doyle was killed when the Squillante Construction Company decided to erect their new offices on the bridge of his nose. Doyle's lieutenant, Little Petey (Big Petey) Ross, now took command; he resisted the Vitale takeover and lured Vitale to an empty midtown garage on the pretext that a costume party was being held there. Vitale walked into the garage dressed as a giant mouse, and was instantly riddled with machine-gun bullets. Out of loyalty to their slain chief, Vitale's men immediately defected to Ross. So did Vitale's fiancee, Bea Moretti, a showgirl and star of the hit Broadway musical, SAY KADDISH, who wound up marrying Ross, although she later sued him for divorce, charging that he once spread an unpleasant ointment on her.

Fearing federal intervention, Vincent Columbraro, the Buttered Toast King, called for a truce. (Columbraro had such tight control over all buttered toast moving in and out of New Jersey that one word from him could ruin breakfast for two-thirds of the nation.) All members of the underworld were summoned to a diner in Perth Amboy, where Columbraro told them that internal warfare must stop, and that from then on they had to dress decently and stop slinking around. Letters formerly signed with a black hand would in the future be signed 'Best Wishes,' and all territory would be divided equally, with New Jersey going to Columbraro's mother. Thus the Mafia, or Costa Nostra (literally, 'my toothpaste' or 'our toothpaste'), was born. Two days later, Columbraro got into a nice hot tub to take a bath and has been missing for the past forty-six years.

MOB STRUCTURE

The Cosa Nostra is structured like any government or large corporation -or group of gangsters, for that matter. At the top is capo di tutti capi, or boss of all bosses. Meetings are held at his house, and he is responsible for supplying cold cuts and ice cubes. Failure to do so means death. (Death, incidentally, is one of the worst things that can happen to a Cosa Nostra member, and many prefer simply to pay a fine.) Under the boss of bosses are his lieutenants, each of whom runs one section of town with his 'family'. Mafia families do not consist of a wife and children who always go to places like the circus or on picnics. They are actually groups of rather serious men, whose main joy in life comes from seeing how long certain people can stay under the East River before they start gurgling.

Initiation into the Mafia is quite complicated. A proposed member is blindfolded and led into a dark room. Pieces of Cranshaw melon are placed in his pockets, and he is required to hop around on one foot and cry out, 'Toodles! Toodles!' Next, his lower lip is pulled out and snapped back by all the members of the board, or commissione; some may even wish to do it twice. Following this, some oats are put on his head. If he complains, he is disqualified. If, however, he says, 'Good. I like oats on my head,' he is welcomed into the brotherhood. This is done by kissing him on the cheek and shaking his hand. From that moment on, he is not permitted to eat chutney, to amuse his friends by imitating a hen, or to kill anybody named Vito.

CONCLUSIONS

Organized crime is a blight on our nation. While many young Americans are lured into a career of crime by its promise of an easy life, most criminals actually must work long hours, frequently in buildings without air- conditioning. Identifying criminals is up to each of us. Usually they can be recognized by their large cufflinks and their failure to stop eating when the man sitting next to them is hit by a falling anvil. The best methods of combatting organized crime are:

1. Telling the criminals you are not at home.

2. Calling the police whenever an unusual number of men from the Sicilian Laundry Company begin singing in your foyer.

3. Wiretapping

Wiretapping cannot be employed indiscriminately, but its effectiveness is illustrated in this transcript of a conversation between two gang bosses in the New York area whose phones had been tapped by the F.B.I.

Anthony: Hello? Rico?
Rico: Hello?
Anthony: Rico?
Rico: Hello.
Anthony: Rico?
Rico: I can't hear you.
Anthony: Is that you, Rico? I can't hear you.
Rico: What?
Anthony: Can you hear me?
Rico: Hello?
Anthony: Rico?
Rico: We have a bad connection.
Anthony: Can you hear me?
Rico: Hello?
Anthony: Rico?
Rico: Hello?
Anthony: Operator, we have a bad connection.
Operator: Hang up and dial again, sir.
Rico: Hello?

Because of this evidence, Anthony (The Fish) Rotunno and Rico Panzini were convicted and are currently serving fifteen years in Sing-Sing for illegal posession of Bensonhurst.
 
 
 I'd better go straighten up the house now. I can't seem to find my prize racehorse and I think the sheets need changing.

Comments

[ellettra.livejournal.com]

have y'all seen Running With Scissors the film? it's... interesting. i mean, it's got gwyneth paltrow, and for me that's usually enough because i.love.her. you should check it out.

[headbanger118.livejournal.com]

Wow, that was a lot more fun to read than it was to write a thesis on organized crime in college. I should've put a comedic spin on it.

Have you seen Gangs of New York?