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| The Sicilian Arrives in America | Started by: Carmelo_Gotti on Jan 07, '09 22:37 |
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My name is Carmelo Gotti, I was born in Calascibetta, Sicily in the province of Enna, located just west of Mt. Etna. I have just come to America hoping to live a better life, escaping the shadows of the cursed island that I once called home. My family has a long history in Cosa Nostra, our thing, the Mafia...whatever you want to call it....my father ran a number of local pizzo rackets in our small village (pizzo = term for extortion money) until Toto Riina vaporized all of our Cosca (cosca = mafia clan). My father was gunned down in the piazza while sipping on a glass of wine. He had been told the war was now over with, and that Toto Riina and Provenzano had granted him forgiveness. Unfortunately that was not the case. This was a simple ploy to lure him out of hiding, something my father was an expert at doing. As a result, I was brought further into the live and swore my revenge on Toto Riina and the rest of the Corleonesi Factions that remained in Sicily. My Uncle, Zio Musotto a highly respected mafioso from Palermo brought me under his wing. Zio Musotto gave me the assignment of overseeing the lemon and orange groves owned by the Galati Family located on the outskirts of Palermo, near the Mezzomonreale district, a rural area filled with agriculture. During my time there I was given my first gift as a low level picciotto within the cosca...a lupara. The lupara was a sawed off shotgun often used by many of the sheperds in the countryside while taking care of the sheep. They had to make sure none of the wolves would destroy their product. Us mafiosi eventually used this weapon in a number of vicious murders over local territorial disputes...power struggles...acts of revenge. We even named a killing style after the weapon...this was..."Lupara Bianchi" or...White Shotgun. Our victims would disappear one night and never be seen again. The locals would wonder and talk amongst themselves about the missing person(s), but they knew deep inside what happened. After a year or so of overseeing the groves, one of my uncle's men, Giuseppe Scafidi, a local Capo Decina within the clan saw how the roots of the mafia was entrenched inside of me. A few local bandits attempted to steal the local produce from Dr. Galati every week. My first instinct..a warning shot to let them know that the Mafia had protected the area. They would usually run off and try again the next week. This happened for a month, until one night I decided to stay over night, and the bandits soon returned. I was able to catch them in the act. Upon bringing my flash light over them, they froze...shocked that they had been caught at night. The dogs...two dobermans stood at my side..abused in the past by the local thugs in order to toughen them up for this kind of work. They stood there with their teeth waiting to sink into the flesh of the two thugs. "Relax." I told them. "They're simply smiling at you." The men got on their knees and begged for me to let them go. I told them who they were robbing from. The nerves in their body caused them to shake uncontrolably, with one vomiting on the soft ground below. Such a disgusting act...contaminating our crops..I simply placed the barrell of my Lupara inside of the man's mouth..as a "prescription...just what the doctor ordered." The man's eyes widened, and then the trigger was pulled. The exit wound was more along the lines of an exit explosion. Skull and brain fragment left scattered along the ground. The other, an older looking fellow...also the more frequent of the two bandits was stunned, and wet his pants. I simply brought the lupara to his face acting as if I were to shoot him...and he fainted. His head was later hacked off with a machete from the farm house and delivered to my uncle, the local Don. As this price he decided to make me a member...uomo d'onore...a man of honour in Cosa Nostra. My ceremony was performed...my finger pricked, the picture of the saint burned...and the oath spoken. I was one of them, a member of the Mafia until my last breath. If I were to ever disobey the rules of omerta, I swore my soul would burn in hell like the burning saint. Over the years, I became well known throughout Sicily, and eventually promoted to the position of Underboss. It was at this time that I became close friends with a mafioso from Trapani province...Matteo Messina Denaro. Matteo was a young up and coming mafioso like myself. He was flashy...drove sports cars, went to the fancy clubs and dated the best looking women. Eventually my uncle alligned himself with Matteo after the arrests in Palermo took out Salvatore Lo Piccolo and Antonino Rotolo, the two men vying for the top spot underneath of Provenzano. Matteo had decided to oust the old guard...Provenzano, the Capo Di Tutti Capi of Sicily. I voluntered for the job, out of revenge for my father. Matteo knew what would happen if I stayed, so he arranged for me to meet with him in the city of Trapani after the murder. I traveled to Corleone and found Bernardo Provenzano. He was sleeping in a small shack outside of the town that was to make Riccotta Cheese. I woke up him up purpose, reminding him of who I was, and what I was killing him for. I told him that Giovanni Gotti's death would not be in veign. A simple slit of the throat with my butterfly knife would do the job on the weak 76 year old man. And so, I fled Corleone back to Trapani. I said my goodbyes to Matteo and boarded a ship. The first stop was in Tunisia, where I lived in a small Italian colony. It was here that I met a friend named Carlos Marcello, a cunning Sicilian who was born in this colony in North Africa. He told me about the many paisani traveling to New Orleans, and so we got on board to another ship, acting as dock workers and came to New Orleans. The climate in the area reminded me of home. I stepped off the ship, and made my way through the city, heading to the French Quarter where I would start my new life in the United States...and I thought to myself...God Bless America. |
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Welcome to MR, dude. Its Bryan by the way. |
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| Reply by: TonyViazzi at Jan 07, '09 22:38 | |
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Thanks.. For all those out there, I am looking to join a family if anyone will take me. |
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| Reply by: Carmelo_Gotti at Jan 07, '09 22:46 | |
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Leans against a lamppost, listening to the man's fascinating history. When the speech is concluded, MacLeod approaches. Welcome to our shores, sir. I've no doubt a man like yourself will find them kind and profitable. Thank you for sharing your story, and I certainly hope that someday you can go on to enact your revenge on Toto Riina and complete your task, assuming he still lives. Regardless, if you need any assistance feel free to get in touch with my through the mail at any time. Tips his cap and ambles along down the streets. |
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| Reply by: MacLeod at Jan 07, '09 23:34 | |
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