LUST FOR GOLD

 In 1950, Luigi Veneto and his family arrived in New York through Ellis Island.  The thirty five year old Luigi came from a small village in Sicily, named Pignaro which was very beautiful but very poor.  Luigi had been unable to leave earlier because he had to look after his aged parents but his younger brother was already settled in America and now it was Luigi’s turn. 

“Papa, are the streets in America made with real gold?” Marco asked, his ten year old son.

Luigi smiled at his young son’s eager face.  “According to Uncle Olivero they are. You know the envelope he sends us every Christmas?  That’s a lot of money, Marco, you’re uncle has a good job here.” 

“I don’t see the gold yet. But maybe Uncle Olivero has some at his house.” 

Luigi spotted his brother waiting for them and the two men embraced. 

“You look prosperous, Olivero,” Luigi said looking at his brother’s well cut striped suit and new shoes.  His eyes strayed to the new black Cadillac that was parked at the curb. 

“Oh, the car's not mine.  That belongs to my boss but I’m allowed to drive it sometimes.” 

Luigi turned around and beckoned to his family to come and be introduced to Uncle Olivero.  “This is my wife Renata.  And these are Marco and Flora.  Show Uncle Olivero how pretty you can curtsy, Flora.” 

Uncle Olivero was a tall, dark man and laughed as he embraced Renata and Flora.  He shook hands with Marco who said he was too old to be hugged. 

“Let’s go home,” Uncle Olivero said shepherding his brother’s family into the car.  “Aunt Bella can’t wait to meet you.  The boss gave me three days off to help you settle in.” 

Over a festive supper of lamb, pasta, vegetables and good Italian wine, the two families became acquainted.  The three year old twins were already in bed, and Bella was expecting another child after Christmas.  Their house on Mulberry Street was two stories high and roomy.  Luigi looked around with envy and asked his brother whether he would be able to have a house like that some day. 

“Sure you will. I’ll ask the boss if he has a job for you.  The boss is a business man and always needs trustworthy people.” 

On the following day, Luigi tried not to show his disappointment when he was told the boss was away but he could see the consigliore. 

“I’m the lawyer for the family.  We have an opening for a reliable messenger.  Do you want the job?”

Luigi looked to his brother who nodded.  “Si, si, anything.  Whatever you say, signor.”    

In seven years Luigi and his family had a house almost as big as his brother’s.  Renata was happy and making friends in Little Italy.  She hadn’t bothered to learn English, but the two children were speaking the language of their adopted country very well now. 

Luigi’s boss, Diego Santini, had come to trust him more and more and within a year Luigi had been sent on secret missions which involved carrying a gun.  This worried him a little but Don Santini insisted it was for his own safety and protection. 

“This is a big city, Luigi. You have become valuable to the family and we don’t want anything to happen to you.”  Olivero reassured him and told him he himself carried a gun and the boss only cared about their best interests.  

“Doesn’t he raise your salary every six months?  Look at your house, look at your car, look at the private catholic schools your children attend.  And look at how happy Renata is.  Did you ever imagine in Pignaro Renata would have a house keeper of her own?  Look at all the things Don Santini is doing for your family.  Like a son he treats you.” 

Luigi had to agree.  Marco was soon going to law school, and the Don promised someday Marco would be considered for a job with the family.  How could he ask for more? The streets were indeed paved with gold. 

When Olivero was killed in the line of duty, the two families were in deep mourning for a year.  Luigi now took care of his brother’s widow and children.  At the same time, his working hours became longer and the work he did for Don Santini became more urgent and dangerous.  He was persuaded to take over the job his brother had held and become the Don’s chief enforcer.  He was trusted, the pay was excellent, and he had become a good killer.  Of course, the people he killed were scum which made his assignments reasonable and necessary.  Once or twice he tried to resign and lead a more peaceful and less perilous life but Don Santini wouldn’t hear of it.

“You don’t understand, Luigi.  Once you join the family, you’re in for good.  The same Sicilian blood flows in our veins.  Your family and your children are like my own children.”

So Luigi stayed on, but now Marco was beginning to ask questions.  Marco was seventeen, a clever boy, and about to enter law school.  “I worry about you, Dad. Bad things seem to happen to people who work for Don Santini.” 

“Bad things only happen when people become too greedy for gold,” his father said. “When you finish law school you can join me in the business and look after me.”

He was a good student and a rich one because he dealt drugs at St. John’s University. 

Soon, after Marco’s graduation, Marco and his father went to see Don Santini.

“Well, Marco, have you come to join the business?” the Don asked getting up from behind the desk to shake the young man’s hand. “We’re starting a line in drug trafficking. It's a new field but it's a profitable one and right up your alley. Would you be interested in starting it for us?”

“Why, that’s a big honour, Marco,” Luigi said, looking pleased. “The Don is offering you gold, you can’t refuse.”

So Marco became the most powerful drug lord in New York despite his youth. The other families didn’t approve because it had been decided at the last meeting of the Dons drug should be avoided on moral grounds. But Marco had no such scruples, and the family’s fortune grew.

Marco was tall, handsome, and debonair. He was a modern man with progressive ideas.

His business acumen was excellent but his good instincts failed him when he fell in love with Jena.

“No!” Don Cipriani said to his love sick daughter, slamming his fist on the table of his study. “He sells drugs to kids and one of these days he’ll be shot down like the dog he is!”

But the lovers eloped and were married in secrecy by a judge.  Don Cipriani swallowed his pride and let them return to New York in peace. 

A year later, after Gina became pregnant, she became suspicious when she started smelling unfamiliar fragrances and seeing strange lip stick on Marco’s collars and handkerchiefs.    She bought herself a gun in a pawn shop, a gun she didn’t know how to use.  As things turned out though, Gina didn’t have to kill her husband.  He was electrocuted in his mistress’s bathtub.  Her Persian cat, which he had given her as a birthday present, knocked her electric hair dryer into the scented water in which Marco Veneto was luxuriating.  It was an ignominious end to the most dreaded drug lord the city had ever known.

© Amy Thompson. Oct 14^th 2010