Mafia Messiah

By Joe Bagori

Mafia Messiah chronicles the life of a baby boomer with a made man for grandfather. The book has been hailed as "The Wonder Years" meets "The Godfather".

The reader learns about The New England La Cosa Nostra from the days of Prohibition to the recent past.

The reader gets a sense of the power that emanated from Raymond Patriarca's office, Coin-O-Matic, on Atwells Avenue, the main thoroughfare of Federal Hill in Rhode Island.

The FBI had wire taps and bugs in place to understand this organization. The grandfather had a special anointing being born on Christmas Day that allowed him to prevent his family from being corrupted by it, a miracle in itself.

The reader experiences a wide range of events from the assignations of John F Kennedy and Martin Luther King, to Muhammad Ali fighting on "The Wide World of Sports", all through the special prism of an Italian American family with Mafia ties and strong Christian values.

With strong parental figures our baby boomer is not only shielded from the dangers of organized crime but also shielded the dangers of life in general.

The book opens memory passages of the mind making each readers experience personal as they relate their own memories to the events and lessons of the book. .

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joe Bagori
• Release date: Nov 11, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452464572

Joe Bagori

Joe Bagori, born in 1959, to second generation Italian American parents, in Providence Rhode Island. The Italian American community of Federal Hill was his home during his early years. It was there that Joe began his appreciation for extended family, religious values, and good food. It was during those formative years that Joe also got to experience the close knit community that populated Federal Hill. It wasn't unusual to know your neighbors and storekeepers and expect welcoming grins when venturing outside. It wasn't unusual for neighbors to call themselves, "Pizans", something similar to cousin, meaning they came from the province in Italy. Good food and a sense of belonging were not the only old world traditions that Federal Hill embraced. Federal Hill was home to the undisputed leader of New England Organized crime, and he had his office, "The Office", just a few doors down from Joe's home. Power emanated from that office and it influenced the population of not only the neighborhood, but the whole state, the New England region, and was the target of the Federal Bureau of Investigations. The Providence Journal reported spectacular crimes and punishments and invariably attributed them to "The Office". Joe would read these accounts as a paperboy. Joe would ask his mother about those Providence Journal articles and about "The Office" occupant, Raymond Patriarca, and he would be told the Journal was just prejudiced against Italians. Maybe the Providence Journal was reporting facts, and maybe they just did not understand the facts, so Joe was in search of them. As Joe learnt that his Grandfather was good friends with Raymond, Joe thought his mother's comments may have been prejudiced in themselves. In other regards Joe was a typical Baby Boomer and Joe gives a unique perspective of growing up a Boomer in a world were an old world was trying to exist into a future that was born of the space race. Joe's first book, "Mafia Messiah" is a fun read that will open memory passages of your mind making each readers experience unique.

Book preview

Mafia Messiah

Published by Joe Bagori at Smashwords

Copyright © 2011 by Joe Bagori

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Chapter 1

Italian born

In 1972 and 1974 Hollywood released The Godfather movies parts 1 and 2. Young men of Italian descent were particularly enthralled by the power of the Hollywood portrayed Mafia. In Rhode Island this was evidenced to me by my high school friends who played a game of one ups man ship by offering the admission that a relative or friend was in the Mafia, or was friendly with someone who was. The winner of this game was the guy that could link himself most closely with Raymond L.S. Patriarca. Raymond was the head of organized crime in New England and his office, The Office, was located at 168 Atwells Avenue, the main thoroughfare of the Italian American community of Federal Hill.

The exterior walls of The Office boasted the Coin-O-Matic logo for Raymond’s vending and pinball business. Within the walls of The Office bribes were paid, robberies and hijackings were approved, disputes between made men were resolved, and a major gambling operation was managed. As if this was not enough life and death decisions were made within the walls of The Office. Criminals in the New England area kicked back tribute payments to The Office or risked being marked for a Hit. In the 60’s and 70’s it was common place for the Providence Journal, and the local television stations to headline a gangland style murder, with a byline that intimated that the deceased was murdered as retribution for crossing Patriarca. The news headlines and the raw power that emanated from The Office charged the social fabric of the Federal Hill community, and the entire state.

Looking at the globe and finding the boot shaped country of Italy, I can use my index finger to trace a straight line to the East Coast of the North American Continent. Dropping my finger down just a bit I can locate my birth place and my home, Rhode Island, and its capital city of Providence. I can imagine my great grand parents, Antonio and Maria, immigrating aboard ships in the early 1900’s to the Port of Providence on Narragansett Bay. Antonio decided that Narragansett Bay would support the family fish business tradition. This family tradition was born on the Island of Ischia off the coast of Italy near the city of Naples. The new family fish market would be at 450 Atwells Avenue.

Born in Providence, a typical American Baby Boomer, or so I think, my heart is broken today. My parents have brought me up with respect for God and Country. My father has been sure to tell me that the most powerful man in world is The President of The United States. I am sure that he tells me this to blunt the power I may have felt emanating from The Office. My father’s words seem hollow now, Ronald Reagan has been shot. It has been less than four months since John Lennon was shot and killed, 69 days from the inauguration of Reagan, and I am sure the news is about to report that our new President has died.

I reflect on recent presidential history, we have just gotten away from a President paralyzed by a group of students holding American’s hostage in Iran. Prior to that President Ford, (who Saturday Night Live made look like a bumbling idiot), had to manage to survive two assignation attempts. Prior to that Nixon left office in disgrace, and before that Lyndon Johnson left office a Lame Duck unable to find a solution to the Vietnam War situation, and before that President Kennedy was shot dead, possibly by a conspiracy that involved the Mafia.

In 1959 Senator Robert Kennedy summoned Raymond Patriarca to Washington D. C. to testify before The McClellan Committee, also known as The Senate’s Racket Committee, about his organized crime activities. The US Government was about to challenge the power of The Office. During the following three years The Office was bugged by the FBI recording hundreds of conversations. I was born into the Federal Hill community in 1959 just as the power of United States Government began to interrupt the flow of power that emanated from The Office.

Chapter 2

In The Beginning

My grandfather, Giuseppe, Joe, was born in 1908 eighth in a brood of nine. On December 24 of each year the family celebrated my grandfather’s birthday, just as his mother Maria had done for him. Late in my grandfather’s life my mother found my grandfather’s birth certificate and to her surprise my grandfather’s birth date was actually December 25, 1908, Joe was a Christmas baby.

Our family guessed that Maria celebrated Joe’s birthday on the 24th so he would have a special day. Maria must have looked out into the future and reasoned that birthday celebrations for Joe on the 25th would be an after thought, as her large family celebrated the birth of Christ.

Certainly Maria’s action on creating a special day for my grandfather was an action of love, an unconditional love that helped define my grandfather’s life, and his families’ celebration of that life. In the simplest terms Maria’s actions are evidence that love can be defined as actions that seek to better another’s life and future. Maria’s action of love for Joe had out lasted her demise by many years.

With reflection I realized that Joe shared more than a birthday with Jesus. When I heard about Joe’s correct birth date it was as if someone had lifted a veil form my minds eye so I could finally see clearly what a gift I had in my life experiences with my grandfather.

My parent’s first child, I was taken home to the Italian section of Providence called Federal Hill. Our apartment was above my grandfathers dry cleaners. My first memories of my grandfather are of his booming voice yelling up the stairs, Nancy! getting my mother’s attention for some important errand like making him lunch. Yes Dad was heard so often, that for the first years of my life I called my grandfather Dad, while the name Honey was reserved for my father.

Having learnt to climb out of the crib I am free to peer up over the counter, I accidentally get my fingers caught between the sink and the woodworking. Even over my own painful cries, I can hear my mother hollering for my grandfather, "Dad, Dad. Grandpa comes up stairs to examine my situation and lifts the sink away from the countertop, setting me free to race into my room and knock over my barrel of toys. The toy barrel was covered in naugahide with a removable top that allowed storage. Multicolored ray guns, robots, Lincoln Logs, spinning tops, balls, a variety of stuffed animals and hundreds of green plastic soldiers came spilling out onto the floor. I love the mechanical nature of the guns and robots. I enjoy bending the metal tabs back to separate the toys in half and peer inside at the inner workings. Only to later reassemble the toys and test them to make sure that they are still in working order. Then I move on to building an imaginary world.

The upholstery of our couch is being redone. I am amazed at how the workman fills his mouth with nails and uses a magnetic hammer to retrieve one nail at a time. Later that night I tell my father how the man had put nails into his mouth while he worked. My father tells me to never put nails in my mouth because he once knew a little boy who did that very same thing and had to have an operation to get the nails out of his aching belly.

The following morning, the newly upholstered couch looks very inviting. As Jack LaLane is pushing the world to exercise on television, I lay down on the couch for a morning nap. When I wake up, one of my legs won’t work! The next thing I know Grandpa and my mother are rushing me to the hospital. It seems that the doctor there has a hard time in speaking English. My mother tells me that he is an Indian, but that doesn’t make much sense to me. He doesn’t look like any of the other Indians that I see on the television. I am being told that my leg is just sleeping and that I will be fine.

It seems that for some unknown reason my family is quite interested in knowing what horse has won what race. I have a rocking horse that I love to ride. I often tell my grandfather, I am winning the race for you!

I remember those younger years with the occasional accident of sorts, causing a rash and the associated pain. My mother would relieve it with the help of a yellow box with an Indian woman painted on the front. I always thought that the Indian woman was real and that she was a good friend … she always had a friendly smile. A little cornstarch applied to the right area and I was