THE CAMORRA AND THE MAFIA
Origin of the Camorra--Its operation in the Vicaria of
Naples--Diego Zezza Organisation of the Camorra--Its
vocabulary--The leader Salvatore Crescenzo--Origin of the Mafia
unknown--Operates in Sicily--A protective agency--The “high” and
“low” Mafia--Palizzola--The “Black Hand” in the United
States--Murder of Petrosino.
The society of the Camorra is undoubtedly of considerable antiquity. It
came to Naples from Spain in the days of the Spanish dominion and its
etymology is thus explained. The word has been traced to the _chamarra_
or “jacket” of untrimmed sheep’s skin so much worn by the Spanish
peasant, and an early mention of the society is to be found in the
novels of Cervantes. An organisation of the kind existed in Seville and
raised funds by levying blackmail on all gaming houses and drinking
shops. Sancho Panza in his government of Barataria is called upon to
decide a case of extortion of this description.
We read that the system flourished in the Neapolitan prisons during the
sixteenth century very much as in modern times. A Spanish viceroy,
Cardinal Grand Vela, writes: “We have learnt that in the prison of the
Vicaria the inmates who are most masterful practise many extortions upon
their weaker fellows, demanding subscriptions to keep the Madonna’s lamp
furnished with oil and imposing other taxes just as though they were the
masters of the place.”
A French writer, Marc Monnier, who knew Naples by heart, has gathered
together much interesting information about the commanding influence of
the Camorra in the Vicaria in the latter days of the Bourbon régime. He
tells us that when a new arrival entered the Castel Capuano, or Vicaria
prison, and passed under the grand entrance, he reached two separate
doors, both leading into the interior, and after the usual ceremonies of
reception he fell at once into the hands of the Camorra. Its
representative came up with outstretched hand and made the stereotyped
application,--money for oil to burn in the Madonna’s lamp. This custom
was universal; the lamps were to be met with everywhere, even in the
lowest and vilest haunts. The sum raised in the Vicaria alone would have
sufficed to illuminate the whole city, and it was, of course, only a
pretext for innumerable arbitrary assessments. The prisoner was at the
mercy of the Camorra, body and soul. He must buy permission to eat, or
drink, or play cards, or smoke; the privilege of buying was taxed and
also that of selling. He paid for justice; for the concession of rights
and privileges to which he was entitled or which he had fairly earned.
The ill-advised person who refused to be thus blackmailed ran the risk
of being beaten to death. Even the poorest submitted at the cost of
their wages or their last copper.
The Camorra in the prisons arrogated to itself the authority to allow
prisoners to carry knives or to withhold the permission. When any
persons of rank and importance were received at the Vicaria, a leading
Camorrist came to them and formally presented each new arrival with a
stiletto with a low bow: “Will your excellency accept this? We authorise
you to carry it.” They were snobs, these Camorrists, and always paid
their respects to persons of means, while they tyrannised only over the
poor and needy. Some of the prisoners were poor indeed, and reduced to
any shifts to obtain a little cash. There was a regular traffic in the
food and clothes issued by the administration, which the indigent sold
to the Camorrists and which the latter passed back at a price to the
officials, thus making a profit out of the poor prisoners.
Although weapons were positively forbidden in the prison, the chief of
the Camorra could always lay his hands upon knives, and had his own
private store. It was the boast of the society that it maintained good
order and gave protection to the well-disposed; that they acted as a
sort of unofficial police, and if they levied blackmail, on the other
hand, they prevented thefts; if they stabbed people when it suited
them, they would suffer no murderous affrays. Duels might be fought, but
only under their auspices; they enforced obedience to rules of
discipline when the wardens themselves failed to secure it. On one
occasion, when a prisoner of fierce, insubordinate temper defied
authority, the warden appealed to a Camorrist for assistance and was
readily backed up by him. This Camorrist, named Diego Zezza, whose
favourite weapon was a razor blade forced into a handle and with which
he had once sliced off an enemy’s head, seized the recalcitrant prisoner
by the hair of his head and banged him against an iron gate until he
cried for mercy. Diego Zezza came to a violent end. His overbearing ways
were so resented by his comrades that a conspiracy was set on foot
against him and he was assassinated by some of the most resolute of his
own associates.
The Camorrist was obliged to maintain his authority if it was
challenged. A priest from Calabria who had gotten into trouble and was
sent to the Vicaria, was approached as usual for his contribution for
oil, but being quite penniless could not pay. The Camorrist raised his
stick threateningly--“You wouldn’t dare to do that if I had a knife,”
said the priest. “You shall have one,” replied the other, and two were
forthwith produced. The chief of the Camorra had always a stock in hand
in spite of all regulations to the contrary. In this case the priest,
like all the Calabrians, was more skilful than his adversary and
speedily killed the Camorrist.
Among the perquisites of the Camorrists was the monopoly of gambling. A
tax was levied upon every game of _morra_ played,--a favourite amusement
with all Neapolitans. It is simplicity itself; one player holds up his
doubled fist and throws out one or more fingers and the other guesses
the number as they are displayed. If one cries “five” and the number of
fingers is three or four, the other player wins. In the prisons the
stakes were measures of wine, also supplied by the Camorra, which in
this way made money all round. The gains were very substantial when
affairs prospered, and as much as £40 or £50 was paid into the society’s
treasury every week.
The organisation was extensive and all the prisons were brought into it.
How well the system worked was to be seen in a correspondence between
the chief Camorrist and one of his subordinate lieutenants in another
prison which was shown to Mr. Marc Monnier. These letters, by many
different hands, proving that the chief was no scholar and had to depend
upon the literary skill of others, dealt largely with the affairs of the
society, which issued orders, gave decisions, inflicted punishments, and
divided its funds. All the current news was passed on, prison arrivals
and departures, new sentences and terms expired. The most remarkable
thing was the facility and regularity with which these clandestine
letters were passed in and out of the prisons; no doubt the wardens were
always at the service of the Camorrists and helped them in every way.
Discipline was strict in the ranks; submission and obedience were
rigorously exacted; advancement was slow and painfully earned. The
recruit passed a long novitiate. He began in the lowest grade, that of
the _garzone chi mala vita_, “youth of vicious life,” in which he was
kicked about by his betters and did any kind of dirty work. Then he rose
to be a _picciotto_, holding a certain position, but still an inferior.
He might pass through years of diligent, even dangerous service, and if
necessary be put to the severest trial, that of carrying out a murder at
the command of the society, when some bloodthirsty vengeance was sought.
If nothing of the kind pressed, it was at one time the rule to throw
down a copper coin on the ground for the _picciotto_ to pick up while
his comrades stabbed at his fingers with the points of their knives.
Promotion might be earned by some tremendous act of self-sacrifice, such
as that of accepting the blame for a heinous crime committed by some one
else. Cases have been known in which the innocent criminal received and
endured a very long sentence, even ten or twenty years at the galleys,
cheerfully, bearing the burden of another for the great reward of
becoming a full member of the society. This probation might be greatly
prolonged, but it was worth it to secure the coveted position of the
Camorrist entitled to dictate to others, to take his share of the
spoils when divided, and to receive the adulation and cringing respect
of the lower orders. He was after that eligible to become one of the
supreme chiefs, a post of great consequence and of unlimited power. He
became in the argot of the society a _masto_ or a _capomasto_; that is,
“master” or “grand-master,”--a personage who ruled over his fellows as a
superior being. When an ordinary member met a _masto_ on the street, he
was bound to remove his hat and humbly ask for orders.
Every member was addressed as “_Si_,” the abbreviation of signore. The
Society had a rich vocabulary of slang terms. _Freddare_ was “to kill”;
_il dormenté_ was “the dead man.” A dagger, as in ancient days, was the
_misericordi_; the _tit-tac_ or bobotta was a revolver; the police were
_lasagne_, so called after a kind of macaroni; _l’asparago_ was a
gendarme. The Camorrists were loyal to each other, and any treachery was
punished with death. They quarrelled among themselves and were bound to
fight with knives and to strike in the chest in serious cases. A
Camorrist might cease active work but could never wholly withdraw from
the society. They received help in old age; their widows were pensioned
and their children provided for.
After the fall of the Bourbons and in the early days of the unification
of Italy, when the new régime had not consolidated its power, the
Camorra in Naples was more than ever formidable; they controlled such
forces and were so strongly bound together that the ordinary laws were
of little avail against them. People were afraid to complain when they
were robbed, and the police hesitated to pursue the robbers. If any were
taken red-handed and the case was clear against them, the judges often
dared not convict or sentence them. It was some time before the
energetic measures taken by the government were of any avail, for even
when numerous arrests had been made, there was a definite danger in
collecting these terrible creatures in the same gaol. The leading
Camorrists in those days were miscreants foremost in the committal of
every kind of crime; they were thieves, brigands and murderers, and the
careers of one or two of the worst may be quoted in support of this
statement.
A prominent personage, leader and king, was Salvatore Crescenzo, who
first entered the Vicaria in 1849, where he continued his violent
misdeeds by wounding one fellow prisoner and killing another. After
regaining his freedom in 1855, he returned to the active business of a
Camorrist, was again captured and sent to gaol, but this time at a
distance from Naples. After his next release, he took to politics and
was for a time a member of the revolutionary police under Liborio
Romano, but this was not in his line, and he again joined the Camorra
and ended his life in the island of Ponza.
A long list might be made out of men of the same type.
It might be supposed that the baleful tyranny of the Camorra, which was
an undoubted fact, based upon undeniable evidence, had now disappeared
from the Italian prisons. Yet, according to the best authority, the
society still flourishes in the south and especially in the convict
colonies established in the various islands of the kingdom. A writer in
the “Archivo di Psichiatria,” Signor Pucci, states positively from his
personal knowledge that the Camorra is still ferociously active. It is
absolute master in every colony. Although by no means numerically
strong, by its admirable and unscrupulous organisation it still rules
despotically, despises laws and regulations and sets the authority of
all prison officials at defiance. Brutal violence may not be often
practised as of old, but the society still extorts blackmail from the
rest of the colonists, adopting nefarious methods of obtaining money.
One is by the tax on gambling--the Italian, bond or free, is always
eager to gamble; another is by the most extortionate usury at twenty or
thirty per cent.; a third is by forcibly impounding the earnings of
those who work. When new arrivals appear in the colony, if they have
money or decent clothes they are made drunk and then robbed. The first
sight, says Signor Pucci, that strikes the visitor is that of a number
of lazy, truculent ruffians lounging idly in the sun or strolling and
loafing about the yards and passages. These are the Camorrists; they are
too lazy to lift a finger to shut a door; but on Sundays they appear in
smart clothes, wearing watches and chains, the proceeds of their
extortion. As these _coatti_ “ex-convict colonists,” are mostly criminal
men, it is easy to understand how soon this corrupting association drags
them down. The authorities are powerless to protect them or to control
the infamous practices of the Camorra. This is alleged to be the
cardinal defect of the colonies and those who know declare that wherever
Italians of the dangerous class congregate together in their freedom,
the Camorra will always exercise its baneful control.
The influence of this criminal society has extended to all classes, and
especially has it made itself felt in the municipal life of Naples,
which might well be termed rotten to the core. No determined effort to
strike at this plague spot and eradicate this crying evil met with any
success before the royal order for inquiry into the condition of
municipal government was issued in 1900, when the most astonishing facts
were brought to light.
The origin of the Mafia, which flourishes chiefly in Sicily is lost.
Probably it arose centuries ago as a means of self-protection among the
residents of that unhappy island which has been the pawn of so many
rulers. Though little is definitely known of it, apparently the society
is as powerful in the twentieth century as in the eighteenth or the
nineteenth.
There seems to be no closely knit organisation and yet it works with
almost the precision of a machine. In the rural districts to some extent
it takes the place of a police force in the protection of property. The
small farmer makes a contribution to some one who is generally
understood to be a leader and his crops are untouched. His neighbour
neglects or refuses to do the same and his fields are plundered.
Membership in the order is often tolerably well known, and thousands who
are not actively engaged are in sympathy with the society and give
information whenever desired. Garibaldi’s easy success in Sicily is
attributed to the good wishes of the Mafia.
The worst features appear in the cities. There the members are ready for
plunder, personal mutilation, and even a murder may be purchased for a
few dollars. The leaders are not elected. They rise by personal
force--because they can make others follow them--and yet their authority
is never questioned until a rival appears, and then death settles the
leadership in favour of the stronger, and another unsolved murder is
added to the long list of the police. In many cases the police
themselves are in collusion with the _Mafiosi_, or at least do not make
any determined effort to bring them to justice.
Some declare that there is a “high” as well as a “low” Mafia. To the
former belong many men prominent in public life, who, while they may not
themselves take part in actual criminal acts, are yet able by their
political influence to protect the ordinary members from the consequence
of their deeds.
Count Codronchi, High Commissioner, and military commandant of the
island in 1894, declares that the acknowledged leader of the society,
Palizzola, Parliamentary deputy from Palermo, charged with the murder of
Marquis Notarbartola, was thus shielded. It is certain that many
obstacles were thrown in the way of the investigation, that Codronchi
was transferred, and that Palizzola, after being convicted twice in
Northern Italy, where the case had been moved, finally escaped on a
technicality. Further he afterward received a decoration from the Prime
Minister and is still influential in public life. In some respects his
position seems analogous to that of the “boss” in an American city.
Nevertheless some members both of the Camorra and of the Mafia have been
caught red-handed and have been punished, while others fled to escape
arrest. Many of both classes have come to the United States along with
the great stream of Italian immigration and the “Black Hand” outrages
have followed. In nearly all cases only those of Italian birth have been
involved, and generally the crimes have grown out of attempted
blackmail.
A prosperous Italian receives a letter, signed with a picture of a black
hand, demanding that a specified sum of money be left at a designated
place, and threatening dire consequences for failure. Often the
frightened recipient carries out the instructions and does not even
report the matter to the police. In case he refuses his horses may be
poisoned, his child kidnapped, his place of business wrecked by
explosives, or he may even be stabbed or shot, particularly if he has
reported the letter to the police who have generally been unable to
protect him.
Investigators generally do not believe that either the Camorra or the
Mafia has been transplanted to America, unless perhaps some crimes in
New Orleans, several years ago, may be attributed to the Mafia. It is
believed that the crimes have been planned by individuals or by small
groups, which may include, however, old members of one or the other of
the societies abroad. Generally they are simply bold spirits, some of
whom have lived in America almost since childhood, who hate honest work
and prefer to live upon the ignorance and the fears of their countrymen.
New York, which contains an Italian population second only to Naples,
has been the centre of these crimes, which the ordinary detective force
seemed unable to solve. In 1905, a special bureau of Italian-speaking
detectives under Lieutenant Joseph Petrosino, was established to deal
with such cases and a long string of convictions followed. In addition
about sixty men, some of whom were wanted by the Italian police, were
deported, because of previous criminal records. Many crimes remained
unpunished, however, because of the difficulty of getting testimony
against suspected persons. The victims or their friends, either because
of fear or because they preferred to take private vengeance, have
hindered the police instead of helping them.
Lieutenant Petrosino soon became convinced that there was little hope of
repressing the Italian criminal in New York without the coöperation of
the Italian government. By exchange of records the police departments of
the two countries would be enabled to exercise closer supervision of
suspected individuals and could report suspicious cases. Without the
criminal records kept abroad, the authorities in the United States were
unable to deal promptly with the immigrants.
Armed with credentials from the New York City government and from the
national government as well, Lieutenant Petrosino sailed for Europe in
February, 1909. Though he travelled under an assumed name he was
recognised in various cities by Italians who had spent some time in the
United States, and probably knowledge of his presence was widespread
among the criminal classes. Though several times warned of danger, he
did not flinch, but went quietly on collecting material and striving to
interest the authorities in his mission. While in Palermo, Sicily, on
the night of March 12, 1909, he was twice shot in the Piazza Marina,
just as he was mailing a letter to his wife, and died almost instantly.
Though the police were ordered to be especially active months of
investigation apparently have produced no results.
Speculation has connected the tragedy with the names of many well-known
Italian criminals. Guiseppe Di Primo, whom Petrosino suspected of
complicity in the celebrated “barrel murder” in 1903, and who was later
deported through his efforts, is said to have threatened to take his
life if opportunity offered. Errico Alfano, better known as Erricone, a
Camorrist of Naples, who was deported and arrested in his native city,
through information given by Petrosino, is also suspected. For that
matter, any one of a hundred who had felt his heavy hand may have done,
or, at least, have incited the crime.
Petrosino’s work has been continued chiefly by men with whom he worked
and whom he had trained. The “Black Hand” outrages have persisted and it
becomes increasingly evident that they can be suppressed only by
exercising closer scrutiny of the records of Italian immigrants, and
perhaps also by adopting a system of espionage, heretofore entirely
foreign to American ideas of the limits of police activity.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The _pilleus_ was a close fitting felt cap worn by freed men as a
mark of their enfranchisement.
[2] “_Mattone_” signifies literally “an arrant fool.”
[3] The Italian Patarini were married priests and their followers,
who are sometimes confounded with the Waldenses, with whom they
sympathised, at least in the conviction that compulsory celibacy was
unlawful.
[4] As a matter of fact the Archbishop of Memphis did leave the prison
under a new régime.
* * * * *
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
but in fine=> but in tine {pg 780}
Nemoque motalium mihi adhuc Velum delraxit=> Nemoque mortalium mihi
adhuc Velum detraxit {pg 202}