Made Men Read online

  The pointed star on each shoulder (in Russian prison culture): Indicates the length of the prison sentence, one point for each year.[10]

  Prison tattoos vary from country to country. In Ireland and Britain, the acronym ACAB tattooed between the knuckle and first joint may mean either “Always Carry A Bible” or “All Cops Are Bastards.” This tattoo is sometimes shown as a series of dots, similar to the Morse Code. Tattoos can also be involuntarily administered as a type of punishment or shame for betraying some code of manliness or honor.

  Extensive body tattoos (known as “body suits”) are commonly worn by Yakuza members. These are called irezumi in Japanese. The size, shape, configuration, and color of the tattoos denote not only the wearers’ affiliation, but also his ability to withstand pain. Initially, tattoos were signs of nobility and social distinctiveness in Japan, and they were often used to indicate status. The use of tattoos by criminals started in the Kofun period (300–600 CE), when they were placed on criminals by authorities for identification purposes, much like the brand marks put on cattle. At the start of the Meiji period (1868–1912 CE), the authorities banned tattoos worn in public because of their criminal connotations, so tattooing continued underground. It was legalized after the occupation forces entered Japan in 1945. Many businesses in Japan still ban customers with tattoos. As Antonio Nicaso and Lee Lamothe point out, the original Yakuza criminal tattoo was a band “inked around a criminal’s arm, with each ring indicating a crime committed”; it was, in effect, a “permanent marking that displayed the adherent’s permanent self-expulsion from society.”[11] Throughout time, entire bodies have been covered in tattoos, in large part to allow new members to show their endurance for pain and thus their commitment to the organization.

  Tattoos constitute the hallmark of membership for many gangs. Wearing unearned tattoos is seen as a punishable offense in the criminal world, with discipline ranging from the painful removal of the tattoo to death. The tattoo must be earned by some action that is deemed to be valiant in criminal terms. Bragging rights come only through actions. Not all criminal organizations, however, endorse the use of tattoos. Many would consider them to be a breach of omertà. The modern Mafia does, however, tolerate individual tattooing, recognizing it as a trend and nothing more.

  Gangster Chic

  In 2011, newspapers across Italy reported that the new governor of Ucciardone prison in Palermo had attempted to put a stop to the practice of prisoners wearing designer clothes and flashy jewelry. Unlike many countries, prisoners in Italy are not required to wear standard uniforms. The power of dress among made men was not missed by the governor. The nickname of that prison was “The Grand Hotel,” because of its lax conditions with regard to uniforms, turning it into a Mafia fashion show. One Mafia capo is reported to have celebrated his birthday with champagne and lobster, dressed in fashionable evening attire. This has prompted comparisons with the film Goodfellas, in which Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci lived the high life behind bars. Images of Mafiosi wearing designer silk clothes in prison are something that the governor was clearly attempting to stamp out.

  Clothes constitute a special kind of nonverbal language. Because they are worn on bodies, they are perceived as extensions of physical appearance. As British fashion designer Katharine Hamnett once remarked, “The origins of clothing are not practical. They are mystical and erotic. The primitive man in the wolf-pelt was not keeping dry; he was saying, ‘Look what I killed. Aren’t I the best?’”[12]

  As part of his character, the made man must aspire to be attractive and virile. As Paul Lunde puts it, the made man must always put on an appearance that is dignified so that he can “accumulate that precious commodity respect,” allowing him to “create authority” and power.[13] But the gangster chic that is evident today in criminal lifestyle was not always the rule. “Early Mafia dons,” write Nicaso and Lamothe, “often resembled peasants in appearance, wearing homespun clothes and living in modest houses.”[14] The early Mafiosi put on a public face of modesty, not gaudy ostentatious fashion. Indeed, in the era of Prohibition, the gangsters were among the best dressed patrons of the nightclubs, establishing a gangster chic that common people tried to imitate.

  Historically, the first period of gangster fashion consciousness in southern Italy was documented at the turn of the twentieth century, when extradited criminals from the United States came back all dressed up in style. They wore white shirts, elegant suits, and, most importantly, donned fedora hats, rather than the coppola, a traditional flat cap worn by men in southern Italy. Hats were signs of class distinction at the time, and the coppola represented peasant status, while a hat, like the fedora, was a sign of high class status. Ironically, the returning immigrants were typically paunchy or potbellied, unlike their Italian counterparts, which was also interpreted as a sign of well-being and wealth. Initially, the Italian bosses rejected this new style, considering it to be useless and simply showing off, pointing out that, “I colori attirano le mosche” (literally “colors attract flies,” meaning the police). One of the most renowned bosses, Giuseppe Genco Russo, who ruled in the period after World War II, would wear only a cotton white shirt, dark pants, and a shabby hat to emphasize the need for real Mafiosi to dress down and be inconspicuous. Another boss, Paolino Bontade, who was well-connected politically, also wore a simple gabardine suit that was made by a local tailor. It was in the 1970s that things started turning around, when gangsters in Italy finally started catching the “sartorial bug” and becoming as fashion conscious as their American counterparts. In fact, Bontade’s son, Stefano, was nicknamed “The Prince” because of his demeanor and sober elegance. The real leader in fashion, however, was Tommaso Buscetta, who became an icon of gangster chic with his blue blazer and fashionable gray pants. Dolce & Gabbana was so impressed by his wardrobe that it adopted his style to launch a clothing line, after Buscetta turned informant.

  That gangster chic was reflected in the criminal characters of such movies as Little Caesar and Scarface. It consisted of a neat, stylish look—suit, tie, and hat—that was not, however, pretentious or affected. Al Capone’s wardrobe was the perfect model of the appearance code. In the 1920s, he built a criminal empire in Chicago that is still imitated as a model for organized-crime operations. Capone was known as “Scarface” because he had once been slashed on his left cheek in a fight that had left three scars. The scars became a symbol of the “cut face,” the sign for a vendetta. He was the picture of gangster chic, always dressed in a suit, tie, and hat. His hair was slicked down and his manner of speaking subdued, yet authoritative. Capone was a celebrity, and he lived like one, often seen riding in an armored limousine to theaters and sports venues, where he entertained guests in private boxes. He was convicted of income tax evasion in 1931. After eight years in prison, he retired to his mansion near Miami, where he died on January 25, 1947, from complications due to syphilis. His appearance belied his brutality. Although it was never proven, there is little doubt that he was responsible for the St. Valentine’s Day massacre, captured many times on film, including Roger Corman’s St. Valentine’s Day Massacre (1967) and Billy Wilder’s 1959 comedy Some Like It Hot. The FBI agent who hounded Capone was Eliot Ness, who has been immortalized by the television series The Untouchables (1959–1962) and Brian De Palma’s film The Untouchables (1987).

  A close rival to Capone, both in criminality and fashion, was Lucky Luciano, who also appeared in public in a suit and tie and wore his thick hair in a slicked-down fashion. Luciano cofounded the New York syndicate in the early 1930s, an organization that still guides the structural changes and operations of Cosa Nostra. His suave appearance blended American and Italian fashion styles. He fashioned a “new look Mafia” in every sense, including the adoption of a distinctive weapon, the “tommy gun,” a type of submachine gun named after its inventor, army officer John T. Thompson. The gun was actually introduced into Mafia culture by George “Bugs” Moran, another fashion-conscious gangster of the early era. Like in the cowb
oy movies, where wearing a distinctive holster and gun was de rigueur, so too for Cosa Nostra, the tommy gun became part of the appearance code. Lunde explains the role of the tommy gun as follows:

  Although it could deliver bullets at a rapid rate of fire, the gun was only really effective at close range. It was the ideal weapon for urban warfare, if you didn’t mind killing bystanders. George Moran’s gang was the first to use it, but gangsters everywhere soon took it up, paying as much as $2,000 per weapon. The Thompson submachine gun was the classic gangsters’ weapon.[15]

  Elegant suits and a tommy gun became the classic gangster look in the era of Prohibition. Another legendary mobster, Frank Costello, stretched this look to its limits. As Reynolds notes, “Costello was the original dapper don, sporting thousand-dollar tailored suits, custom-made shoes, perfect manicures, and a bullet-proof haircut.”[16] Facing tax evasion charges, Costello was advised by his lawyer not to dress pretentiously in court because it would turn off the mainly middle-class jury members. The lawyer said, “Start wearing cheap suits, old shoes, a lousy tie. You’ll do better with the jury.” Costello replied, “I’d rather lose the goddamn case.”[17] Costello became a fashion icon and celebrity writ large. He was imitated by many other gangsters and was probably the model for Don Vito Corleone, played by Marlon Brando, in The Godfather. Costello had a raspy voice, and there is little doubt that Brando adapted it for his role.

  Styles have, of course, changed, but images of men in suits carrying tommy guns are indelibly imprinted in the popular imagination, thanks to the movies. Mafia men today wear designer clothes, as the governor of Ucciardone prison found out. Heroes must look good, no matter who they are (be it criminals or lawmen). The uniform is now part of omertà. Today, criminals are arrested as they eat caviar and drink champagne, like the ’Ndrangheta boss Pasquale Condello, or dressed in a moncler jacket and T-shirt, like Giovanni Nicchi, a flamboyant and young Mafia boss; however, there are some Mafiosi, like Bernardo Provenzano, who are throwbacks to a previous era, intentionally wearing peasant clothes and living in rustic abodes. In fact, Provenzano was arrested as he was eating ricotta cheese and a plate of chicory, the utmost symbol of humble living.

  Today, the most elegant Mafioso is also the most feared and most wanted by the authorities. His name is Matteo Messina Denaro, also known as “Diabolik,” known for wearing Armani and Versace clothing and who also has the reputation of a Don Juan. His nickname derives from the fact that he adored the character of Diabolik of comic-book fame, wanting to adopt the symbol of the machine gun on the hood of Diabolik’s car. Denaro has fashioned himself as a real-life comic book character. He is known to have once said to a friend, “I can build a cemetery for all those I have killed.” Another boss known as much for his brutality as for his foppishness was the late John Gotti, known as “Dapper Don,” who also loved to put on a show in front of the cameras.

  Enter the Movies

  The way Mafiosi dress and look is mirrored in movie portrayals, which, in turn, influence how Mafiosi will look and act. This dynamic extends to symbolism, like the so-called Mafia kiss. Real Mafiosi will kiss each other to indicate loyalty and mutual respect. Some kisses, however, are more famous than others, because they have been captured on film. One of these is the kiss between the Mafioso Totò Riina and former prime minister Giulio Andreotti. Andreotti’s last term coincided with the so-called mani pulite (“clean hands”) trials, targeting corrupt politicians. In 1995, Andreotti himself was put on trial in Palermo for involvement with the Mafia. The pentito Balduccio Di Maggio testified that Andreotti had exchanged the Mafia’s kiss of respect with Totò Riina, who was a fugitive at the time. Whether this was true is a moot point. Without the media, that purported kiss would have never become a symbolic act connected to the level of corruption that had beset Italian society.

  Kissing to show respect is found across Mediterranean societies. In Mafia culture, the kiss may mean something quite different. Called the “kiss of death,” it was revealed to the world by a movie, The Valachi Papers (1972), based on Joseph Valachi’s testimony in 1963. The kissed person is marked for death, alluding unconsciously to the biblical story of Judas. Valachi had testified before Arkansas senator John L. McClellan’s Permanent Subcommittee on Investigations of the U.S. Senate Committee on Government Operations. During his testimony, he came forward with the story of a capo giving him a kiss on the cheek, which he interpreted as a “kiss of death.” That event is referenced in The Godfather, Part II, when Michael Corleone kisses Fredo, who had turned informant, as he utters, “I know it was you Fredo, you broke my heart.”

  Without the movies, such gestures would have remained largely unidentified. The movies have become both documenters and manufacturers of Mafia lifestyle and codes since at least the early 1930s. Take, for example, the movie Donnie Brasco (1997), which is loosely based on the real-life events connected with Joseph D. Pistone, an FBI agent who successfully infiltrated the Bonanno crime family in New York City during the 1970s, under the alias “Donnie Brasco.” The character of Donnie Brasco is played by Johnny Depp, who met with Pistone several times while preparing for his role. After it was revealed that Donnie Brasco was an FBI agent, Dominick “Sonny Black” Napolitano was murdered for having allowed the agent to infiltrate the family. He was shot dead, and his hands were cut off. It was not another informant who gave him away; it was the movies.

  The link between the Mafia and the movies is something that the Mafiosi themselves have exploited. When Lucky Luciano returned to his hometown of Lercara Friddi in Sicily, he financed a movie theater there. The first film projected was the Italian version of Little Caesar. Luciano often recounted that people would come to him on the streets and kiss his hand in recognition of his generosity and because, as he boasted, they wanted to show him that he was more worthy of adulation than Little Caesar.[18] The Valachi Papers, adapted from Peter Maas’s book of the same title, tells the story of Joseph Valachi, the first American Mafia informant. The movie was instrumental in telling the story of the real Mafia to society at large. For instance, in the movie, there is a reference to the use of concealed weapons in a violin case, which is an intrinsic part of Mafia lore, part fact, part fiction. We also see Mafiosi spying on one another, showing pictures of other families to killers so that they can become familiar with their targets—all behaviors that are similarly part of the same lore. The importance of choosing the appropriate weapon is seen in an episode where a gun and a knife are placed on a table in front of Joseph Valachi, played by Charles Bronson. He is told menacingly by the capo that anyone who lives by the knife and the gun will die by the knife and the gun—a version of the biblical warning, “For all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword” (Matthew 25:52). It is no coincidence that this very text is found at the beginning of the 1931 movie Little Caesar. The capo then recites three rules to Valachi—rules used in a “time of war,” referencing the ten commandments of the omertà code (discussed in the previous chapter). The merciless use of the vendetta is seen in another episode, where the penis of a man who slept with the capo’s mistress is cut off.

  Mafia portrayals in the movies have not only influenced the perception of criminals, but also, by extension, Italian Americans in general.[19] The disclaimer at the beginning of the Godfather and Scarface movies about claims to authenticity actually “demonstrates,” writes Cortes, “a recognition that entertainment films do, in fact, teach, possessing the power to create, reinforce, and modify public images about ethnic groups, including Italian Americans.”[20] Early silent era films represented the desire of Italians to melt into the American cultural pot. Significantly, as Cortes continues, they “seldom participated in such silent film social deviance; their days of widespread screen gangsterism would not arrive until the 1930s.”[21] The subtext in the early movies was that by abandoning the previous ways through hard and honest work, the immigrant could easily climb the American social ladder. Things changed radically in the 1930s, when, along with Chi
nese Americans (Chinatown Nights, 1930; The Mysterious Mr. Wong, 1935) and Irish Americans (Public Enemy, 1931; The Roaring Twenties, 1939), Italian Americans turned into gangsters in the American imagination (Little Caesar, 1931; Scarface, 1932). This was further entrenched in such postwar movies as Black Hand (1950), The Brothers Rico (1957), Inside the Mafia (1959), and Pay or Die (1960). Cortes concludes the following:

  Such movies not only reinforced the gangster image of the Little Caesar/Scarface tradition, but also added a new dimension. Larger, better organized, and far more brutal than their film predecessors, these Italian American movie gangs also enjoyed venal connections with international Italian criminality, a far cry from the bumbling Italian soldiers of World War II Hollywood lore.[22]

  Many critics see The Godfather movies as an exception to this pattern of portrayal, since they purportedly delve into other aspects of Italian American culture, for example, its fervent insistence on moral values and ethics and the family as the central institution of society, but we beg to differ. The problem in these movies is that the values are embodied by mobsters and their families, not common Italian Americans. It is no wonder that Italian American groups assailed The Godfather as creating a false image of all Italians. Aware of the problem, Italian American film directors started deflecting the spotlight away from Mafia culture to other gangsters, implying that gangsterism is not exclusive to Italians, but part of human life. Brian De Palma’s 1983 remake of Scarface includes Cuban Americans in the gangster mix. Predictably, there was an outcry from the Cuban American community, which, like similar protests by Italian American groups, was short-lived and ineffectual. A Godfather-style disclaimer is found at the end of the movie. It reads, “The characters do not represent the Cuban American community, and it would be erroneous and unfair to suggest that they do,” which indirectly emphasizes this very representation. That is, by actually alerting audiences to the Cuban American community, their tendency is to read the movie as a nonfiction narrative.