CHAPTER ONE
Don Charlie Lucky killed Don Maranzano, and before that Don Maranzano killed Don Masseria, but before that Don Masseria killed Don Mauro, while before that Don Mauro...—The Don: How to Run a Mafia Family, CHAPTER VI.
NICK, MANHATTAN
Everything is bigger, when you are six. The tables and chairs at Umberto’s, the sidewalk, the big cat walking under your table on the sidewalk, rubbing against your bare legs and walking on. Your father. Everything is bigger.
And everything takes forever, time going by so slowly, and meaning so little. So on a bright, sunny day—the kind that has you sitting out on the sidewalk, Umberto’s cat rubbing against your leg—Sunday lunch can be a never-ending thing, like mass earlier this morning. But for Niccolo Francesco D’Arcini, as he looks up and down the narrow, busy street over this never-ending lunch, this is much less boring than watching the priest, Father Paolo, say a never-ending mass. Here is always something to see, as you look up and down the street. Nothing much happens at Father Paolo’s. Here he can give the cat a little rub right back.
Aside from being a warm, blue, sunny day, this Sunday is nothing special, nobody’s birthday, nobody’s saint’s day. Saint’s day being the day of the saint from whom you took your first name. Just another Sunday lunch in the Italian neighborhood. They sometimes go to Umberto’s. Not always, but Papa and Mama like it. They know everybody at Umberto’s, and Umberto seems to like them. After lunch, Umberto always gives him a free iced cream, Italian of course.
Three of them sit at one table, and Nick’s Uncle Santo sits at another, along with a couple of men who work for his Papa. One of them is real terrible looking, and merely to see him scares Nick. Talk about real ugly, he is real ugly.
But this much Nick understands: They are looking after them, his Papa, Mama, and him too. Especially his Papa. They are keeping an eye open to make sure that his Papa isn’t troubled over a long Sunday lunch. Or worse, maybe killed.
Even though it is hot, Papa wanted an inside table, not one on the sidewalk. But by the time they got to Umberto’s, the place was crowded. Some kind of mix up, hard to believe—considering Umberto’s respect for his Papa—but...But these things happen. Somebody could have been moved, of course. His father could have insisted on an inside table, but he didn’t. Papa is nice that way, but...But Nick saw Papa didn’t like it.
Thing is, Papa is always pretty serious and intense...And today he looks extra pretty serious and intense.
They sit down. They sit down, order, wait. His father is getting more intense, Nick imagines. By the minute, Papa is getting more intense.
And when his Uncle Santo gets up from the table, his father, who has been talking to his mother, stops in the middle of talking to her...like that. Stops talking.
His father asks his uncle what his uncle thinks he’s doing. Uncle Santo says that he is going to the back, to the toilet. Uncle Santo has to go, nature is pressing him, he insists, shrugs his shoulders, looks shyly at Nick’s Mama. Nature is calling. And when nature calls...?
Nick’s Mama blushes, and Papa still doesn’t like it.
About thirty seconds later his father sees something, because he yells to Nick, in Italian, ‘Run for it! Run for it!’
Nick doesn’t know what in heck is happening, but he has the outside chair, the one nearest the street. He doesn’t know where to go, so he runs inside the restaurant, following the cat.
Running, he sees three men with big, blue masks over their faces. The masks have slits for eyes and mouths, but cover everything else, the whole face.
These men are carrying handguns and a sawn off shotgun. Or is it two shotguns?
Nick’s mother screams, he hears her screams.
Nick runs like crazy, but turns his head. He thinks he sees the top of his Papa’s head blow up. Yes, amazing, but that looks like Papa’s head. The top of Papa’s head making a shower of red.
Nick hears more screams, shots, feet running.
He runs into the back, the kitchen...He sees the cat bounce through an open kitchen window.
More screaming.
Nick bounces behind some sacks of something, maybe potatoes, maybe other produce.
Nick hears somebody come into the kitchen. Hears a couple of shotgun blasts. Plates smash and blow into pieces...More screaming.
And then it is all over. Finished. Done.
Some people came to kill Papa.
Uncle Santo comes into the kitchen with a gun in his hand...Nick is crying.
Out in the street, he sees his mother on the sidewalk, bleeding, skirt over her head. She is crumpled up, like a broken doll, unnatural...Umberto’s wife, a kind and good woman, pulls down the skirt, lays an oilskin tablecloth over her, covers her up.
His father lies against the overturned chair and table, wine glass gripped in his hand...The other two men are dead, the terrible looking man too. The ugly one was his Papa’s true friend, after all. So looks don’t always count, do they?
Blood runs over the sidewalk in red streams and blood runs off the sidewalk into the gutter.
Police cars, ambulances...And now time is moving fast too.
Nick realizes that what he actually saw go was his father’s left shoulder. Mostly. His father is still alive, but Nick guesses his father won’t last. Doesn’t look like lasting at all. Some people came to kill Papa, and probably they will succeed.
Don Charlie Lucky killed Don Maranzano, and before that Don Maranzano killed Don Masseria, but before that Don Masseria killed Don Mauro, while before that Don Mauro...—The Don: How to Run a Mafia Family, CHAPTER VI.
NICK, MANHATTAN
Everything is bigger, when you are six. The tables and chairs at Umberto’s, the sidewalk, the big cat walking under your table on the sidewalk, rubbing against your bare legs and walking on. Your father. Everything is bigger.
And everything takes forever, time going by so slowly, and meaning so little. So on a bright, sunny day—the kind that has you sitting out on the sidewalk, Umberto’s cat rubbing against your leg—Sunday lunch can be a never-ending thing, like mass earlier this morning. But for Niccolo Francesco D’Arcini, as he looks up and down the narrow, busy street over this never-ending lunch, this is much less boring than watching the priest, Father Paolo, say a never-ending mass. Here is always something to see, as you look up and down the street. Nothing much happens at Father Paolo’s. Here he can give the cat a little rub right back.
Aside from being a warm, blue, sunny day, this Sunday is nothing special, nobody’s birthday, nobody’s saint’s day. Saint’s day being the day of the saint from whom you took your first name. Just another Sunday lunch in the Italian neighborhood. They sometimes go to Umberto’s. Not always, but Papa and Mama like it. They know everybody at Umberto’s, and Umberto seems to like them. After lunch, Umberto always gives him a free iced cream, Italian of course.
Three of them sit at one table, and Nick’s Uncle Santo sits at another, along with a couple of men who work for his Papa. One of them is real terrible looking, and merely to see him scares Nick. Talk about real ugly, he is real ugly.
But this much Nick understands: They are looking after them, his Papa, Mama, and him too. Especially his Papa. They are keeping an eye open to make sure that his Papa isn’t troubled over a long Sunday lunch. Or worse, maybe killed.
Even though it is hot, Papa wanted an inside table, not one on the sidewalk. But by the time they got to Umberto’s, the place was crowded. Some kind of mix up, hard to believe—considering Umberto’s respect for his Papa—but...But these things happen. Somebody could have been moved, of course. His father could have insisted on an inside table, but he didn’t. Papa is nice that way, but...But Nick saw Papa didn’t like it.
Thing is, Papa is always pretty serious and intense...And today he looks extra pretty serious and intense.
They sit down. They sit down, order, wait. His father is getting more intense, Nick imagines. By the minute, Papa is getting more intense.
And when his Uncle Santo gets up from the table, his father, who has been talking to his mother, stops in the middle of talking to her...like that. Stops talking.
His father asks his uncle what his uncle thinks he’s doing. Uncle Santo says that he is going to the back, to the toilet. Uncle Santo has to go, nature is pressing him, he insists, shrugs his shoulders, looks shyly at Nick’s Mama. Nature is calling. And when nature calls...?
Nick’s Mama blushes, and Papa still doesn’t like it.
About thirty seconds later his father sees something, because he yells to Nick, in Italian, ‘Run for it! Run for it!’
Nick doesn’t know what in heck is happening, but he has the outside chair, the one nearest the street. He doesn’t know where to go, so he runs inside the restaurant, following the cat.
Running, he sees three men with big, blue masks over their faces. The masks have slits for eyes and mouths, but cover everything else, the whole face.
These men are carrying handguns and a sawn off shotgun. Or is it two shotguns?
Nick’s mother screams, he hears her screams.
Nick runs like crazy, but turns his head. He thinks he sees the top of his Papa’s head blow up. Yes, amazing, but that looks like Papa’s head. The top of Papa’s head making a shower of red.
Nick hears more screams, shots, feet running.
He runs into the back, the kitchen...He sees the cat bounce through an open kitchen window.
More screaming.
Nick bounces behind some sacks of something, maybe potatoes, maybe other produce.
Nick hears somebody come into the kitchen. Hears a couple of shotgun blasts. Plates smash and blow into pieces...More screaming.
And then it is all over. Finished. Done.
Some people came to kill Papa.
Uncle Santo comes into the kitchen with a gun in his hand...Nick is crying.
Out in the street, he sees his mother on the sidewalk, bleeding, skirt over her head. She is crumpled up, like a broken doll, unnatural...Umberto’s wife, a kind and good woman, pulls down the skirt, lays an oilskin tablecloth over her, covers her up.
His father lies against the overturned chair and table, wine glass gripped in his hand...The other two men are dead, the terrible looking man too. The ugly one was his Papa’s true friend, after all. So looks don’t always count, do they?
Blood runs over the sidewalk in red streams and blood runs off the sidewalk into the gutter.
Police cars, ambulances...And now time is moving fast too.
Nick realizes that what he actually saw go was his father’s left shoulder. Mostly. His father is still alive, but Nick guesses his father won’t last. Doesn’t look like lasting at all. Some people came to kill Papa, and probably they will succeed.
